


The Grand Adventures of Felicity Smoak

by blahblahwahwah



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Oliver, Romance, Sexual Tension, badass Felicity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/blahblahwahwah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a.k.a How Felicity did not save the day.</p><p>Felicity's father comes back only to take her away from the life  and the people she loves. But sometimes, it takes a series of misadventures for a girl to discover how badass she really is and how valuable she is to her friends. She gets in trouble, gets rich, gets in trouble, gets hurt, gets in trouble again and gets the guy.</p><p>Canon divergence. From in mid s02 before the revelation of Slade Wilson.</p><p>On hiatus till season 5 is done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inside her brain, a demon sings

**Author's Note:**

> Disclosure: I own nobody. If I did - the second half of s03 would have gone down differently. I'm shamelessly borrowing them to satisfy my perverse desires to see them together in all sorts of compromising positions. I don't even own my original characters - you can just take them if you want. I won't sue you.
> 
> Story notes:
> 
> a. Canon divergence AU, post mid-S02. Tries to stick to a lot of back stories and themes in S03 . Sara is not dead. Moira is alive and was campaigning to be Mayor etc etc. Isobel's evil identity is still unknown to Team Arrow and doesn't really matter.
> 
> b. Rated T for now, but will most certainly become a very hot M later, if I continue.
> 
> c. Please bear with my style of writing - it can get a little confusing as I'm trying to connect with my idea of the inside of Felicity's brain.

**The Grand Adventures of Felicity Smoak**

**a.k.a. How Felicity did not save the Day.**

* * *

 

She should get a medal for  _not_  spraying vomit all over the Interstate .

Blood rushes into Felicity's ears, the sharp wind slaps at her face, her heart is pounding out of her chest and her fingers fly all over the keys like nobody's business .

 _Check that._ She should bloody well get a medal for being forced to use a keyboard in such an inconvenient position. Her fingers are like - vibrating or something - and not even in the good way.

"C'mon!" Big Joe yells at her.

"Working. on. it!" She grinds out (- in her loud voice).

Dust or wind or something, sting her eyes and she can feel them watering. She can barely concentrate on the network alerts pinging off the wireless access points, and it is indeed a wondrous miracle how the code flows out when she could barely think over all the roaring. 

( _Maybe - it's just muscle memory_ , her mind reasons.)

"You need to work faster!" Big Joe hollers.

"Well! It's kind of - like -  _super hard_  when you've got me riding pillion on a frickin'  _moving_  motorcycle!" She screams back.

(In her really,  _really_  loud voice.)

 

***

 

If she ever survives, Felicity decides that she will write up a memorandum and present it to every future employer who would come her way.

Point A or roman numeral I or decimal 1 or binary 1  or - ?  ( _Whatever_!) - Point A -:  _When she says mobile wireless - she doesn't mean it like... literally!_

 

 

The thing about being Felicity Smoak is that even if you're riding pillion at the back of a faster than the speed-of-death motorcycle, your brain is still the fastest moving machine out there. And _her_ brain - thinks - like- _all_ things at once. Like. Literally - ALL things. At  _once_.

Example of the now: How she wishes (at this very ridiculous moment) that she had a cigarette in her mouth when she'd met Oliver Queen. (Which, was  also a ridiculous thing to wish for sitting in a closed cubicle with a gigantic 'No Smoking' sign right above you.)

There's a very savoire-faire thing about having lit cigarettes in your mouth, which Felicity feels is appropriate when one meets a tall, perfectly featured, blue-eyed mysterious man. ( Y'know ? - Lean back in your chair, prop your legs up on the desk, crossing them, give him an intimidating view of your shapely, long, hairless, high-heeled limbs, take the cigarette out between well-manicured index & middle finger and say in the sexy voice: 'Yes? Mister Queen.'

(- Felicity can't grow her nails long enough for a manicure - she bites them before they get a chance).

Instead, Felicity was chewing on a pen. A  _pen_.

(Like - not even one of those awesome super-expensive diamond crested ink pens, which don't end up with bite-marks even if you came at them with laser teeth, but your run-of-the-mill standard office stationary ball-pointers that can barely go two sentences without bleeding all over the paper).

Before she'd met Oliver - (not the vigilante hero Oliver, but Oliver -'Noooo! Mister Queen was my father'- Queen with his whole 'I'm the dead boss's returned from the dead, heir to the empire who is a certifiable vagina-magnet ' persona waltzing into her office with a bullet ridden laptop with that amused smile/not-smile and that sexy stoic voice with all the "My coffee shop is in a really bad neighbourhood..."

\- yeah Oliver was at least ten different kinds of sexy.

Right, so -  _before_  she met him -) Felicity, was your average, fatherless, single-mom reared prodigy blessed with a boat load of student loans and the highest IQ in Queen Consolidated's technical division with menial, boring but  _not_ life-threatening job of being your mediocre IT girl.

And.

She never complained about it. A boring life -  _was_  what she wanted.

(The pay wasn't  _ex_ -ceptional. Nothing to write home about. She wasn't doing any of the ground breaking work she thought she was going to be doing once she finished college. Besides, after what happened with Cooper - yeah - nothing good came from 'breaking grounds' in her experience.

Also. She'd really not be able to write home about it if she did, because - let's face it, her Mom still didn't know how to turn  _on_  her computer without calling her, let alone understand the difference between packet data and the WiFi icon).

 _But  -_  it was a jo _b_  (with a huge stress on the 'b').

It was enough to repay her loans on a slow but, estimated-monthly-installment pace which was a  _huge_  deal for her. It may have not been exciting - (the way she saw it, four of her average nine hour day was spent in picking up the phone and monotonously coaching the 'end user' to turn it off and on again...

...and by 'turning it on' Felicity means whatever electronic device they were using and nothing else...though she wouldn't mind telling Oliver Queen how to turn it on with a great deal of interest - and never turn it off...

...yeah, where was she again?) - but it was better than being a cocktail waitress. Right? Dignified - even?

To be frank, she spent doing - like- maybe (one?) hour of real IT work (- because Felicity was really fast at what she did) and another one hour of shoot-me-in-the-head boring paper work and the remaining three-ish hours were spent in browsing trivia, eating, playing with the stationary, and unauthorized piggy-backing on the QC internet bandwidth to play World-of-Warcraft (no harm, no foul. Her supervisor,  _ex_ -supervisor - was a clueless idiot anyway).

Felicity Smoak may always have had a thing for bad boys with valid causes - (duh! Nerd rage, Daddy issues, abandonment and a general have-you-seen-Donna-Smoak? syndrome) - but after the debacle which went down with the one true love of her life and his tryst against the 'Grus', she'd totally trash-canned the idea.

(No more 'fighting-the-man, power-to-the-people, champion for the cause, while you're screwing the guy with the angel face but demon tastes' life for her.

No sir.)

But, that didn't mean the  _thing_  wasn't there inside her - seething, lurking, waiting to get out. Its why she avoided getting  _too_  handsy-tipsy in a club, or  _too_  flirty in those tech-conventions (the  _thing_  would get out occasionally when she had a bit much to drink and the guy was like  _right_  there - but-) She had built a pretty good firewall around the  _thing_  and knew it's tell-signs, and always prepared for a rainy day.

Like when she took one look at Oliver Queen and felt the all-in-all urge take her clothes off and display her unmentionables to him. Yeah, it was pouring that day - Control dampers on. 100 %.

And the babble helped. Surely. And - look how fabulously it turned out.

Except it didn't. In a matter of months she became - a  _sidekick_. For the supposedly spoilt rich-boy with a heart of gold and a life-altering survivor experience (geez! Talk about cliches!)

From then on, it was excitement galore - leading her to the point where the  _thing_  was out again.

(Not only was it out and sniping, it somehow managed to configure a sort of Karma-Bitch beacon and sound it; because even if she tried to stay away from it, Karma's lover a.k.a. Trouble, came looking for her.)

Ergo, _here_ she was -at the back of a motorcycle, doing  _ill -_ legal stuff. And she was surely going to die of motion sickness, if not in a prison and if that didn't kill her, she was sure Oliver would put a couple of arrows in her, when he found out what she'd been doing these past three months.

And.

( and may she add? - Thoughts of Oliver Queen are also super  _inconvenient_  when you're trying to see your itsy-bitsy sized laptop screen while you are trying to hack into the highly secure Citywide CCTV system feed to turn off basically every camera that might spot you while  _simultaneously_  trying to break into the StarlingCorp's secure server - with all the noise and the vroom-vrooms and all the zipping all while being chased down by bad guys on motorcycles and armored cars - well - bad _der_  guys than the one whose motorcycle you are already on - but -

\- yep, details.)

Whooppee for her hero complex. Not.

 

It's not that Felicity hasn't been on motorcycles before. She technically, knows how to ride one, (thanks to what'shisface, the boy she lost her virginity in a seedy little trailer) albeit sooooper slowly (not her virginity, but riding a bike - in a: '  _this one's the clutch, this one's the front brake, this gear falls when - et cetera and 'now may I please take your flower_? ' sorta way) and she can maybe ride it for - like - four? feet without wobbling.

(In fact, every time she secretly eyed Oliver's sexy-as-fuck ass as he worked out, she'd fantasize about riding pillion behind him as they zipped off into the sunset into the land of will-never-happen-for-her.)

 

***

 

The pain is awful. It's so awful it keeps her conscious, even when the world spins around her. Were there really any other words to describe pain? How long was she lying here? And how was she even alive?

(And how the fuck did Oliver do this? Every day!)

"Miss David!" A male voice rings in her ears.

_Big Joe - that's Big Joe. He's alive, thank God!_

Rough hands seize her shoulders, and next thing she knows her whole body wobbles. And the damn pain, which she was certain had already hit ten on the pain before scale grows worse.

Intolerably worse.

"C'mon, Miss David - we gotta go!"

A pathetic deafeningly loud cry rips at her eardrums, when he shakes her shoulders again (so loud, it drowns out the sounds of sirens, cars honking and general chaos that come from all around her and - )

\- She knows that cry. It comes from her.

 

***

 

His disapproval was so sexy she could feel her nether-regions go kaboom sometimes.

(When she wasn't disapproving right back at him, of course).

Oliver's disapproval-face ... was super adorable.

It starts with jaw clenching, followed by eye-fixing icy stare, the lips (oh man! She wanted to kiss them all the time) going into a flat line, and then there was some more jaw clenching where the lower facial muscles twitch and two vertical dimples would appear at the sides of his mouth (not smiley dimples, angry dimples). It would get complimented by the low growl warning that was - really, really convincing.

Thea and Roy got most of the disapproval-faces. Well -  _and_  the bad guys of course, just before he switched to angry-face.

And then, there was a Felicity special. The disapproval mixed with amusement. It took her forever (- and by forever, she means hours and hours of ogling, etching his face into her mind and so much, yeah -  _so_   _much,_ mental re-analysis that her mind could substitute a biometric program)- to understand that that was an exclusive stimulus-response reaction that she was a pro at elucidating.

 

Like - that one time, when she refused to let him out of his sulky-cave, overriding his security lock, because she thought he was going to kill Kent Williams (mistakenly thought, in retrospect - after all, he was  _only_ going to rough him up).

Felicity had always been timid - especially when indulging in nefarious activities; and she never really knew how she mustered the courage to Oliver ( - and let's face it...Oliver was prree-tty scary when he wanted to be. Especially, when he...well, he sort of, menaced (is that the word?) towards her, bending so close to her with all the growly low threat-voice and the "You're not the only one who knows how to reboot my system") - but she did.

Muster it. 

 _All_  the courage inside her, to be precise. And she stood up to him. She stood _up_ to him. Like with her defiant voice and everything. And despite the fact that she was a bit (and by that she means very much) distracted by his manly sweaty scent (what, with all the shirtless, short-staff workout which was so noisy  _that_ it was totally the reason she wasn't getting any work done...right? Totally - the only reason. All the noise. Not all the bare sweaty pectoral or the hint of those glutes and...) - she stayed her ground. Even pursed her lips to prove it.

Earning the all panty-wetting disapprovably (is that a word?)-amused jaw clenching and mouth twitching.

She was good at getting that from him. Because (and Felicity takes full credit for all the remarkableness here) she was- (to quote Oliver Queen himsef) - "remarkable"  (-and she wasn't a total wimp when it came to standing up to your friend for his own sake. She had  _some_  moxie - god help her).

In fact. Sometimes, she found his Felcity-disapproval looks, sexier than the weird smile/not smile he would give whenever her mouth overtook her brain in the 'lets-see-who-will-make-a-bigger-fool-of-Felicty-Smoak' race. That smile/not smile- BTW - was a Felicity Smoak special too. Not a full smile; not a faked grimace. Just this little twitch at his mouth, this ghost of a smile, that was so adorable and there was a relaxed look in his eyes.

It made her feel special.

 

***

Somewhere, between being violently wrenched off a warp-speeding motorized excuse for a vehicle and the searing pain that rips through her shoulder as she hits the concrete and skids for what seems like forever until the pavement breaks her skid (like - literally - stops her superfast horizontal slide along the definitely-not-smooth-as-silk concrete road) - Felicity thinks of Oliver's gorgeous face and smiles.

Because she's an idiot like that.

Which brings her to the next point aka Point two or B or 01:  _she is definitely, absolutely NOT cool with motorcycles anymore._

 

* * *

_\--- >_


	2. Death and all her wasted friends

_"Ohmigod, ohmigod,ohmigod!"_

It is in her head and on her mouth. She can feel her throat vibrating as she chants it - stupidly - repeatedly.  _"Ohmigod, ohmigod,ohmigod!"_

"She's pretty banged up!" Someone's voice rings into her hazy mind. It sounds like Little Joe. She feels arms grabbing her and hauling her.

"We can't take her to a hospital!" That is Big Joe - for certain.

 _Take me to a hospital!_ She wants to yell.  _"Ohmigod, ohmigod,ohmigod!"_  is all that comes out.

Someone, sticks their stupid fingers into one of her shoulders and Felicity ceases. All she can hear is the screaming that sounds like her super-screechy voice.

"Dammit Joe!" She hears one of them yell - like - right next to her ear. "Her shoulder's probably dislocated, be careful!"

(Felicity also realizes at that very moment that _she_ 's friggin' wimp, B-T-W. 

 _Yeah_.

Oliver's other girlfriends - by that she means, Sara and Helena - probably wouldn't yell or want to go to the ER when their arms came out of the sockets. Oliver's other girlfriends are so badass, they'd probably not be on the  _"Ohmigod"_  train.

They'd probably pick themselves up and pop their dislocated arms back in and promptly return to kicking-ass. Even Laurel would probably be back at court the next like minute, being super-Laurel- _ly_ ).

 

"Shit!" The Other Joe says. "Dammit, Miss David, can you feel your fingers?"

Her whole world was nothing but a blurry onslaught of nothing but pain. How the hell is she supposed to feel her fingers? Which hand are they even talking about?

Funny though, Felicity thinks, as she blinks - she can't really see anything. Maybe she has hysterical blindness, or maybe she is in one of those comas where the eyes stay open but the patient's a goner - who knows what happens in comas any way?.

Or - maybe her glasses aren't on. Where the fuck are her glasses? Does she have to get new ones?

 _Hospital._  She wants to say but nothing comes out. Even in this pain induced blurry she can see the logic in the Joes not taking her to the Hospital. She'll probably get arrested - the whole purpose of living the quiet boring life will most certainly be laid waste.

And.

 _All_  the good, she did when she was being all sidekick-y with Oliver would be for nothing.

 

 _(The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones_ , Felicity remembers.  _Oh, and,_ She thinks as an afterthought.  _Screw you, too, Shakespeare! )_

Oliver would be at her trial giving her disapproval-face. Not the cute Felicity Smoak special ones, the regular fear-my-wrath-you-traitor ones.

Or worse, betrayal-face. The one that would make her feel so sick to her stomach that it will almost be as if she had his boat sabotaged, forcing him to be marooned on the Island with no supplies except for his abs and fabulous survival instincts.

  

Point 11 (Huh. Whaddyaknow - she preferred binary):  _Unbridled access to legitimate critical care even if the a) job is illegal as illegal gets b) she risks the betrayal-face of Oliver Queen._

At least, then, someone would be forced to do  _something_  about the pain.

 

***

 

Pain just become her best buddy and she was going to die in its arms. At some point she realized that screaming and chanting  _"_ Ohmigod"s _._ was worsening it.

"You'll be okay, Miss David." One of the Joe's said, maybe it was Little Joe. "Just hang in there."

"She's gone quiet." She heard Big Joe say while she felt herself being lowered onto a hard surface.

"But she's awake."

"You still with us, Miss David?" She could feel someone shaking her legs ( - now why would they do that?) . She blinks in acknowledgement because she doesn't have the energy to moan or mumble or anything.

"Okay - help's coming, okay Miss David?"

She closes her eyes and decides she's not even going to bother. She'll probably die here, anyway, and, if she's lucky she will be reincarnated as some rich old lady's cat (not that she believes in reincarnation). She'll never see her friends again and she'll die in the peaceful knowledge that her unrequited love for Oliver Queen went un-professed.

Help would probably come, she knows. She called for it, without really calling for it (she made sure she looked straight into the one camera that she hadn't disabled so that they would know it was her. )

But it wouldn't be help - it would be a reckoning. And. No one would like it.

 

***

 

 _His hands were warm._ They were always warm.

"I should, mention, I'm afraid of heights." She shuddered. "Which I just learnt."

His voice dropped to the low and soft, steady but gentle tone that made her want to do all sorts of death-defying acts.

(She couldn't blame women for falling in love with Oliver, now, could she? When he turned on the 'gentle & caring'...oh-boy! Did anyone stand a chance?)

"Felicity," He said in the soft-voice, distracting her from the twenty-plus floor plummet-to-death elevator shaft that lay before her.

"Huh?" She looked at him and realized that he'd already ducked, readjusting his position so that a free arm came around her, slowly and steadily. She responded by mechanically placing her arm over his shoulder.

"Hold on to me tight." He said. 

His words were so calming that she actually forgot - like - everything - but him. He had his mission-face on; determined, archer eyes making calculations, body all poised - and looking edibly handsome to Felicity.

"You know, I imagined you saying that under different circumstances." She said, all in one breath, feeling a little relaxed and - ( _Holy fracketty fuck!_ What did she just -?) - she sighed quickly while her brain kicked into overdrive, one part freaking out over the verbal blunder, the other part counting down to take charge (  _3...2...1...)._

His head turned towards her, his eyes locked onto her own.

"Very platonic - circumstances." She blurted.

His eyes were just...(well, they weren't really the 'is this the time for your stupid wisecracks?' kinda eyes, they weren't even angry-eyes or 'I'm not amused, Ms. Smoak ' eyes )...they were different. They just focussed on her like he was actually  _looking_  at her.

She held her breath.

A glimmer of a something, unfamiliar to her, flashed in his eyes; (and for that infinitesimal moment ) there's no take down of Malcolm Merlyn, no uncovering covert evil plans, no fear of dying like a squashed bug in the elevator shaft  - there was just him and her.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards greeting her with that smile/not smile, before he raised his arm with the gun-thingamabob, and turned his head away from her, focused on the target.

She was still staring at his mouth while they  _swung._

 

***

_Will he ever look at you that way, again?_

"Miss David? Don't pass out now."

(On a side note, Point 100 (Binary of course):  _If anyone calls her Miss David, one more time, she will absolutely kill them_ ).

 

***

 

Big Joe does it (and by it she doesn't mean the nice  _it_. She means the very painful, unwanted  _it_ , that she doesn't want). He touches  _her shoulder_. Those big beefy fingers paw at her and he touches _that_ shoulder from which pain gnaws at her so badly that her eyes are forced open and a feral growl escapes her.

Hyperventilation is her response, but it makes the pain pulse periodically with each expired breath so - (  _Breathe. breathe. breathe. 3...2...1) -_ Felicity closes her eyes and sighs, hoping the breathing will help the pain.

"At least, she's alive." Says Little Joe rather amusedly.

Assholes.

If her secret master plan goes south, and she survives with her life and is forced to go with Plan C, Felicity thinks that somewhere down the line she will end up taking over this Mickey-Mouse-organization and she will become Big Joe's and Little Joe's boss, provided they don't end up dead. Upon which, Felicity decides, she will fire them. Or. Demote them to Janitors.

( _Hmm -_ do they need Janitors?)

She taps into whatever energy she could find within her body and finally mumbles it out, "I'm going to kill you both." 

"What'd she say?" Little Joe said. "What'd'you say, Miss David?"

"She's going to kill us." Big Joe replied in an even tone as thought it was just the most normal thing in the world for anyone to hear. "Look, I think your shoulder's okay - maybe you're in shock."

"You were damned lucky, Miss David." Little Joe mumbles.

Felicity doesn't know. But, she's sure she's not in a coma, or experiencing hysterical blindness. Things are blurry but if the pain is any indication, she's certainly not dead - (unless - do Zombies feel pain?).

"Where...?" She croaks.

"We're in the underpass. " A blurry vision of Big Joe gesturing upwards diverts her attention. She realizes he means large concrete freeway above them.

"Oh, well then," Felicity whispers slowly, wincing at the pain. "Network's lost."

"Ain't no use for a network. Damn phone's shattered. Your computer's gone too, Miss David. Either the police have it, or Cyrus has it. D'you think they can retrieve the shit on it?"

 _They can't._  She wants to say, but doesn't. (Because of the pain....more so...because of the plan.)

"Man - for a second there," Little Joe continues. "When I saw that truck - I thought we was done, y'know what I'm saying? Do you think we lost them?"

"For now." Big Joe says. From the way she sees the blur that is his head moving, he seems to be scouting.

Felicity feels it, suddenly. That acrid taste of bile rising up. She wants to throw up and whines with the pain as she shifts.

"No, No, Miss David! Don't move!" Big Joe says.

The pain monster gets up and roars, the voice that comes out is her agonizing growl as she turns and spits before she asphyxiates on her puke.

_Ohgodthepain. The pain._

 "Ew gross." Big Joe says.

"Really?" She hisses, her breath coming in small spurts. "I was - like - _this_ close to being roadkill and all you can say is 'ew gross'? What are you a teenager?"

(Puking helps. Her eyes are able to focus, now.)

"What a waste!" Little Joe says. "We didn't get enough time. Sorry, Miss David."

"Don't be. " She manages to say, trying not to hurl once again. "I've broken through the first-wave encryption."

For a minute the only sound, is the sound of sirens in the distance and zooming vehicles above them on the freeway. Big Joe, helps her lean up against him. "Seriously?" He says, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yep." She sighs. ( _Grrreat!_ Her head is throbbing now - but, on the plus side, she can see better).

"You actually broke through the firewall?" Little Joe says ( Duh. He's shocked). "Like when we was - uh -" He gestures his hands in a frantic figure of eight implying their let's-look -death-in-the-fucking-face-joyride.

"Yep." She whines. "Can we  _not_  do that again, please?"

(She means the whole - mobile-hacking thing. They get it.) Little Joe lets out a low whistle. "Ezra wasn't kidding about you, huh?" Big Joe asks her.

The whole Cyrus's armored truck run-in had sort of skewed her plan a bit; so frankly, Felicity is unsure. Also. Her brain is all fuzzed up and maybe broken in some parts, like her body probably is. Also - she really doesn't feel like talking because of the pain.

(- And other life-preserving reasons.)

"I dunno." Little Joe says, shrugging his shoulders. "The minute Cyrus's men showed up, I thought we'd pulled the plug on the operation."

The pain is there, but maybe a small part of her brain has befriended it. Felicity feels like she's growing more accustomed to it by each excruciating minute. Or maybe panic's taken over. With each moment of clarity, Felicity's taking stock of the whole situation.

 

The 'getaway car' part of the plan, was not supposed to be a literal thing.

Breaking first level firewalls was supposed to be a stationary operation, all performed inside the StarlingCorp Bank, after connecting from the end-user terminal.

(It was very Oceans Eleven.

Get inside, plug the cable, tappity-tap, break the first wave encryption, send in the virus to take the second wave spontaneously and get away - that was the face plan, the one that the Joes were in on.

And - while she was at it, she would also implement the real plan. The one where she supposed 'nudge' the proxies of the security system server and electronically trigger the silent alarm, alerting the police, all while she dropped in her little 'message' to A.R.G.U.S.).

She had just tappity-tapped a bit when suddenly Little Joe came rushing to her saying they were made and then she's suddenly being hauled out of the bank by her men. 

Thing was - she'd spent months planning this whole hack and she would be damned if it went all halt-and-catch-fire.

Granted. The 'let's use the public networks and satellite wireless' was her plan - but clearly it was a stupid plan ( in her defense, though, how was she supposed to know that Big Joe rode bikes on public roads like he was in the Grand Prix? He listened to opera music with tears in his eyes, for cryin'-out-loud!). It was all good in the beginning. She _had_  managed to direct them on to the roads with access points (which, she knew like the back of her hand, because - well - being hero-support for the Arrow and everything) but then, in the blink-of-an-eye they were in a high speed MotoGPesque race. From one side came Cyrus' goons, the other side came the cops and it all went to hell. She had contingencies for losing both computers and her phone but she didn't have one for losing bodily function.

The route she'd taken was deliberate, but now, she isn't sure that the message she'd pinged off that particular tower had gone through before she was sent parasailing (minus the parachute) off the motorcycle by the very polite (not!) goon truck.

 

Felicity takes a deep breath.

She feels miserable physically and emotionally. She leans her head against Big Joe's shoulders. He is a very sweet man - with a fist the size of a sledgehammer and a temper to match. Ex-army, just like Diggle. Except. Diggle wasn't a criminal. And Joe would hate her when he found out what she was really scheming, and probably have her shanked in the girl-prison....if she made it to prison alive.

Felicity wonders when the idea of 'reaching prison alive' became a best-case scenario in her head. _I am - a cyber terrorist._

 

"Fuck this!" Little Joe says. "Where the hell is Bondi, man?"

 _Holyfrackin'motherof-!_ Felicity's head starts to swim. It's the pain, the nausea, the weakness and the fact she forgot about their back-up exfil team. She has to get away from them. Her body won't fucking move. She's in a million different kinds of pain and she has to fucking get away from them.

"I think that um..." (Oh wow! Her mouth is really dry.) "...I think it's because they can't ping the phones...what-with-all the - crash boom bang and everything." She says.

It's a lame idea, but maybe if the cops find her before Bondi did...?...Actually both plans are fucked up. The police are no good to her at this point. She's broken at least a hundred and one laws and by the time she explained to them the  _complexity_  of was going on in her "cyber criminal world"  Cyrus would find a way to have her upended in lock-up.

"You need to umm..." Her head was spinning. "You both need to leave. Here's the thing." She says, sniffling. "I really can't move, I'm in a lot of pain."

"Nah-ah -!" She interrupts Big Joe before he interrupts her. "Listen! They can't find us because our phones are smashed and the tracker chip's probably KIA."

"Yeah we know," says Little Joe. "I called them through a pay-phone, two miles north of here while you was - y'know - passed out. Which reminds me, who's Oliver?"

"What?" Felicity blinks.

"Yeah, you was just mumbling his name - all the time."

Oh frack! Yeah, she should probably not swoon any more.

"Nobody." She says, quickly. "Yeah, I figured, it's just..." Felicity sighs. She has this burning desire to just - sleep. "Pay phones have cameras. Cyrus has probably hacked in to all feeds. If they tipped off the police at the bank, then, it's very likely they've made you when you called from the pay-phone. You can't be seen at the rendez-vous points."

"So, what do you say?" Big Joe says.

"Split up." She coughs. "You go east, let Little Joe, go south. Find the nearest gas station and call on the hotline."

"What hotline?"

"The sex hot line." Felicity snaps (in her angry-voice). "The top-secret-I'm a career criminal, get me out of here-hotline I'd set up like four months ago." Felicity bites out. "Seriously, why do you not pay attention?"

"Miss David. I like you a lot. You're a real smart lady and you're real nice. And that's why I  _pre-tend_  to listen to you...but lady, when you talk, it's like the damn bullet train cross jumpin' between two tracks. One minute, you're talking Disney apoplexies and the next you're talking Star Wars and the next you're talking, what -I'm pretty sure sounds like geometry 'cause I failed math in school."

She wants to correct him and say she talks 'code' and not 'geometry', but that would totally be make what he said just redundant. She exchanges a look with Big Joe, who shrugs.

"Aphorisms" She mutters, instead.

"What?"

"Aphorisms, not apoplexies." She sighs. "Big Joe has the number reverse tattooed on his hip. And no -!" She exclaims with wide eyes in warning. "He will _not_ take off his pants here. Get to the hotline, let Bondi know and then come and get me. "

"But Miss David -"

"Okay and  _stop...!"_  She growls. "Argh! Stop calling me Miss David!"

"Can't be callin' you by yo' Christian name now, can I?"

"Well, for starters, I'm Jewish!" Felicity huffs indignantly.

"No Kidding. Really? I thought you was -uh -!"

"Miss David, Miss -  _Felicity._ " Big Joe interrupts her very attractive mental plan to murder Little Joe and delete the evidence of the crime lab's servers. "I get what you're saying but you gotta know that we can't leave you here, the boss'll - "

"Ezra doesn't need to know the details." She says. "I'm not saying leave me..." She coughs. "I'm saying you we can save time, if you two split up. Plus..." She sighs. "You guys are going to have to hit me in the head if you want to move me now."

Twenty minutes - she calculates. It'll be about enough for her to think of something. But seriously - though, what was she going to do?

She looks at the Joes and sees pensive faces, her eyes widen realizing that:  a) they are complete douches b) they're seriously considering knocking her out.

"Don't even think about it!" She squeaks. (Is that - disappointment she sees on Little Joe's face?).

Big Joe shifts and another monumental wave of pain engulfs her, forcing her groan. Loudly.

He tries - but fails miserably at gently getting her to rest against the wall of the underpass. Felicity tries not to think of the bodily fluids that might have been sprayed at random on those concrete walls while she watches them discuss. She sighs and breathes in the stinky air. A general awareness of her body hits her, and she knows that her right shoulder's the culprit, but there was pain all - _all_ \- over. She gingerly lifts her left wrist close to her eye and squints at it. It's like - almost two - in the afternoon. The underpass is unpopulated - but that doesn't mean junkies, and gangbangers won't come around.

"Guys, c'mon." She says weakly. "Just do this, please -I'm cold and I need some heavy duty meds. I think I've lost my glasses, so I'm practically blind. I'm just...in a  _lot -_ and  _I mean_  a lot of pain. The longer we just wait around, it's only that much faster that Cyrus' men'll catch up. They're probably listening to the police scanners. It's mid-day. What if a cop comes on patrol, huh?"

That seems to tip the scales for them.

"Okay, we'll get you comfortable." Big Joe says.

"No, no!" She waves her left hand (and wow! That hurts like hell!). "I'm good - like this. I just - I can't move, Joe. Please. It's too much pain."

He hands her a gun, with a silencer on it. "I -uh - I-" She stutters. "I don't want it."

"Miss Da - Miss Felicity." He says, squatting by her right side. "You don't hesitate to shoot, now, you hear?"

"You can lose the 'Miss' you know." She grumbles. "This isn't 'Gone with the Wind' or anything." He disregards her statement, but looks at her expectantly. Felicity resignedly sighs, and takes the gun and has a look at it. Little Joe comes by her left side. She doesn't really pay much attention to him.

Until - "Now this is gonna hurt," Big Joe says. "But you'll thank me for it later."

 _Oh holy fucketty crappetty!_ "N-n-n-o!" She whimpers when she realizes they mean to readjust her position. Tears seep out of her eyes. "No please...don't do it!"

A blast of unimaginabley super fuckingly un-cool torments burst all over her body, and Felicity's whole body screams with her, crying and sobbing like a baby. She feels like her bones will crawl out of her body and wishes she'd just pass out from the pain. When they're done she's positioned in a half-seated position against Little Joe's jacket. Big Joe has a pathetic expression his face as he covers her with his jacket. He kisses her forehead in a very paternal-ish manner and after a few minutes, they're gone.

She's alone. Sobbing quietly. Trying  _not_ to cry out any more than she already has.

There's a battle going on between her body and mind. She decides that she's not going to waste any time as soon as they leave, and so, she props her left elbow against the concrete wall and gasps in pain deciding that she somehow has to lever herself up. "I can do this. I can do this." She chants.

She misses him. She misses Oliver. She's always missed him. She's missed him from - like, ten minutes  _before_ she'd said goodbye and absconded from her sidekick-slash-EA-slash-tech-support role in his life and she's not stopped missing him ever since.

Now, she finds that missing him and the physical pain in her body have that much in common: when she thinks it can't get worse - it gets worse and right now, the only thing she wants to be a whiny, genius IQ, whimpery damsel curled up in his arms even though that's clearly not the type of women he is into.

But she can't really be that, can she? She's officially a career criminal, cyber terrorist and master-mind of the ultimate double cross plan which is clearly -  _failing_. 

The pain is so - godawfully shitty - that it's 86ed -like, every other sensation around her. If someone happened upon her now - she wouldn't even know it, even if they tried to kill her.

"I can do this." She gasps, squeezing her eyes shunt. She grinds her teeth and groans. "Oliver does push ups on one arm. It can't be that bad, can it? The guy got D in tenth-grade algebra!"

Doesn't really help thinking about him. She realizes.

"Maybe Plan C isn't a bad idea." She thinks out loud, trying to distract herself from the pain as she pushes up. "Maybe I'll just steal the money. Run off to the Caymans. Maybe I will not demote the Joes to Janitors, but to private butlers instead." She grunts and growls, creeping up higher and higher, talking to herself. "They'll serve me fruity drinks with umbrellas in it and  _not_  call me Miss David. Maybe living off the spoils of a life of crime  _is_  more fun. No one will trace me, because I'm super awesome and, and, and...oh, oh, ohohmigod-that hurts like a bitch!" She gasps labored breaths.

Her head pounds, her spine complains, her legs wobble and eyes stay glued shut. It's hopeless, she realizes. She's not used to this sort of physical pain. She's only half up and the other half seems like another eternity away.

 _He will never understand this._  She tells herself, trying convince her emotionally-charged reckless mind of hers, that seems to the cling to the memory of him for support. "Oliver is never going to forgive you." She whispers out loud.

"Try me." His soft voice fills her ears. 

Felicity's eyes fly open but her vision is so blurry, nothing makes sense.

(She was hallucinating, right? Pain can make people hallucinate voices. And shadows. And shapes moving towards her. Hallucinations can seem super real right? She saw 'A Beautiful Mind' and John Nash was like _the_ -man of game theory. So, so, so much, smarter than she was - and he hallucinated some sick stuff).

 _You can hallucinate that feeling, can't you? It can happen, right?_  That warmth, that scent - the arm surrounding tucking around her good shoulder, wrapping around her back, the feeling of his breath on your face, the warmth of his callused hand against her cheek.

"Felicity." There is so much tenderness in the voice (like Oliver-level tenderness). She tries to keep her eyes wide, trying to look for the source in the blur. Felicity's not sure why but she hears pain in the voice. She reasons that she's projecting her pain into the hallucination.

(What the hell is going on? Is it a trick? Or is she like  _dying_  or something?)

Lips press on her forehead. She closes her eyes and leans into it. There's gritty feeling across her forehead, roughly scraping across - as though the stubble on his chin raked against it.

(Oh yeah, she's definitely dying. But, at least she'll die happy, right?)

"Oliver." She whispers, feeling the fresh trickle of her tears down her cheeks. "Oliver." She gasps.

She feels something snaking under her half bent knees and lifting her up in arms - so strong, so  _familiar_. "I'm here." The voice comes through the blur.  "I got your message."

 

(Point 101 - that's 5 in the Decimal system - BTW -  _she is absolutely, positively no longer working with Madam Pain...because the bitch just fucks with her brain_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do review - or I'll feel like no one cares and the writer inside will wither and die for want of love.


	3. Decisions - I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay. They're together in S4 and they are awesome. So I guess this story is more of playing the UST train.  
> Apologies for the spelling mistakes.  
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments. I hope the flashbacking isn't too complicated. It is Felicity's brain after all.

 

Contrary to what one might think, Felicity did not discover heartbreak on the day her father left.

She discovered it two days later. When she realized that he was never coming back.

He left before breakfast. (Felicity often wondered if the salty pancakes Mama placed before her for breakfast that day was because of all the tears; but they weren't. Her mother dumped salt into the batter, out of grief, mistaking it to be sugar.)

She watched the retreating taillights of his truck, standing on the porch of their dilapidated trailer, confused and little apprehensive, clutching a three-and-half inch floppy disk which was all that was left of her father's things. She assumed that he'd packed his bags and that beast of a Macintosh LC, because he was gonna "getting the hell out of here, to do what I'm born to do!" as he'd roared at Mama the night before - and by which she assumed in her little brain that he was going to get a job.

(Felicity had hidden under the bed, cupping her ears the night before, because she hated all the screaming.

To this day, she cringes and retreats any time anyone uses their loud voice. She wraps her arms around herself because no one else will hold her.)

She remembered her mother moping, sobbing and weeping all around the house that day and didn't think much of it. She'd grown used to her Mama's swollen eyes when it came to Daddy and she thought everything would be okay when Daddy came home.

But Daddy didn't come home that night, or the next or the night after that. And her mother didn't stop crying for a whole week.

(Heartbreak.

Like glass had shattered somewhere in her chest and was clawing at her insides.)

The label of the floppy disk read "Modern Computing Ltd. Bills Backup" in his scrawny handwriting.

Several years later, at college, she managed to extract the files and desperately read each and every word of each and every in-voice saved on that disk as though every alphabet, dollar sign and numerical digit held some part of her father in them.

When the resentment and rage, finally set in for her, she set the disk on fire, simultaneously giving Cooper a rebellious tonguey smooch at the time, watching the magnetic medium melt from the corner of her eye while she kissed him, as a way to say 'Fuck you, too. Dad'.

She never regretted losing that very last part of him.

 

***

 

"Oh my god Oliver! What the _hell_ happened - ?"

_Diggle. Diggle. Diggle._

Felicity's awake but her ears are ringing and everything's dark in front of her eyes. Her eyelids hurt, and she realizes she can't open them. It's like there're rocks sitting on them.

"She was thrown off the motorcycle!"

_Oliver. Oliver. Oliver._

"What your motocy -? Wait! That perp that we saw -woah! Wait a minute! That perp was _her_?"

( _Oh golly._ She thinks as she slips further into oblivion. Now, Diggle knows she a career criminal too.)

 

***

 

Felicity hates Silence.

Her one childhood companion had been Silence and she hated him or her or it or whatever Silence was.

After her Father left, her mother had to work two jobs and started dating with a vengeance. Felicity, was left for the most part with a snoring old hag who smelled like a chimney named Mrs. Ping who was their next door neighbour - and Silence.

So Silence pervaded the emptiness her father left. It infiltrated the walls of their house, it sat on the lazy-chair her father would sit on, it invaded her tiny box of a bed when she slept, it swept all over the floors of their dining room and the kitchen when her mom was off at work.

Mrs. Ping never allowed Felicity to watch TV or play music to fill the silence because (surprise! Surprise!) she wanted to sleep - like - _all_ the time.

So Felicity talked.

She talked - to her dolls, to the salvaged computer parts, to the toaster, to the walls, to the microwave, to Mr. Dooley's cat, even to  Mrs. Ping while she slept. When her mother was home she would yap and yap away to her mother even when her mother begged her to shut up and let her bathe in peace.

She despised Silence about as much as she despised its best friend Loneliness.

It was silent that night in the Foundry when she had to say goodbye to Oliver all those months ago. She realizes now that it was an omen. An omen that Loneliness would be her companion for a long time. That - she wouldn't be able to return for a while to the life that she loved.

 

***

 

There's silence at first, when she comes to - but her eyes seem glued shut. She mentally perks her ears for sounds.

"That's an open laceration in her shoulder." Oliver's hushed voice comes through. "We have got to get her to a hospital."

_No hospital. No hospital. No hospital._

"No." She croaks (out loud - and - her throat hurts.)

Silence. Felicity wonders if it was all just a dream, then? An auditory hallucination. 

(Felicity hates silence).

There is a bustling sound of activity, then. "Felicity, sweetheart?" (That's John for sure. Her mind's not playing tricks.)

Her eye lids flutter open and she squints. There's a brutal assault of light that makes everything bleary. She realizes that the two head shapes above her are them.

"No." She mumbles."Hospital."

"She's delirious." She hears Oliver say. His voice carries with it a tone of desperation."I think she's lost a lot of blood."

"She's in shock." She feels a warm hand on her forehead. It's strange how her body knows it, but it's not Oliver's hand. It's John's. 

"Want to." She croaks out. "But can't."

"What did she say?" She hears John's voice (it sounds - closer).

"Hospital. Want to." She coughs, clearing her voice. She forces her eyes open and realizes a Diggle shaped shadow is right in front of her face. "But can't." She says with as much clarity as she can muster. "Cyrus."

"Cyrus?" Diggle mumbles. "As in the Mayor?"

"John." She sobs. "Hurts all over. Hurts."

"Felicity." The giant Oliver shaped shadow says to her in his gentle voice (the voice that makes her sad and crave him all at once); her eyes shift to it. "That's why we need to get you to a hospital."

She exhales, allowing herself to feel the pain. It shoots up along her arms and Felicity twists her body trying to stop it from spreading all over, and fails - miserably.

"Oliver." She whines.

"I'm here." He says. (His voice is like a balm, soothing the raging storm inside her.) 

"My car - that night." The words stumble out of her; there's a constant flashing of bright light in her eyes; her head is spinning again. "When you bled - in my car - that night. Your  mother - in my backseat. No insurance."

"What's she talkin' about?" She hears John say. Felicity tries to focus on the head shapes but now everything's splotched together.

"I think she means...the night I got shot - when she found out about me." She hears Oliver say. Suddenly, his voice doesn't sound all panicky.

"Trust me, please." She whispers pleadingly. "I trusted you."

The darkness claims her, but not before she hears a resigned sigh and a promise from him with a gentle. "Okay."

 

***

 

Telling Diggle, proved to be easier than expected. She'd gone to Diggle's apartment at first, because she was unsure of how to face Oliver; then she reasoned that Diggle would have to be told first because A) because she found it easier to talk to him in general; B) they would need a replacement for her who could be trusted and he would have to use his resources and C) she would need his support when she would have to tell Oliver.

"Hey!" He greeted her. "You're back. How's your Mom?"

Her mother was the excuse to set the premise for this whole godawful plan-in-motion.

(Felicity had flown to Vegas that weekend, citing it to be a family emergency to which both Oliver and Diggle readily agreed. Heck! Oliver offered the company jet. When she declined, he almost paid for a business class ticket, which she also stubbornly refused, until finally, upon his insistence, she agreed to travel in coach at his expense. Diggle dropped her to the airport.  

They were considerate like that. It made her feel all the more guilty for not telling them the truth about Vegas - and everything else.

What a hypocrite she was.  

Considering, she was going home to yell at her Mom for lying to her.)

"Erm - fine." She said, wringing her fingers. She stayed at the door.

"Felicity?" John (bless his heart!) said with concern. "Won't you come in?"

She came right out and said it, still standing at the door. "There's an emergency- ish thing."

Diggle said nothing. He curled his fingers at her, gesturing her to come inside. Felicity automatically stepped into the apartment. She allowed him to guide him to couch and seat her down. When she opened her mouth to speak, he gestured for her to stay silent. She waited as he went to make coffee, restlessly looking at the half-opened and un-opened boxes lying around, recalling that him and Lyla had just moved in together. First, he got her to eat some pound cake that Lyla had experimented with successfully and then once they'd both eaten a little and finished half-a-cup of coffee each, he began to speak.

"Okay?" He said, slowly. "Is everything okay."

"No. Yes. No. Yes - well" She huffed. "I can handle it John, it's just...it needs something..."

"Needs what?"

"It's like - I can't explain it. John, y'know I can't tell you, because it's personal but - it's really complicated."

(Of course, no one would assume it to be nefarious complication because - well - it was Felicity.)

"Okay." Diggle said respectfully. "What does it need?"

"Me."

"You?"

"Yeah. yes." She rambled. "It needs me. I have to - go - I have to leave here. I'll have to quit." She paused and mumbled. "The job - and...y'know, team Arrow."

"Felicity," John said, quickly and sympathetically. "Is your mother sick, or something?"

"No! No...not like that. It's just that - it's a family emergency. That may - take a while."

It was a lie, in away, but she was also only hiding the truth.

"A while?" He said.

"Yep - I don't know how long." She said, then braced to defend her decision.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"So that's it." She said, confused. "Okay? You're not gonna ask me more about it?"

"Do you wanna tell me more about it?"

"No." She said, looking down. "No, I can't."

"Felicity." He said, getting up to sit near her. "Is there any way I can help?"

She debated on it, internally. She'd actually debated on it before. Involving John and Oliver in this would make things easier, but then again, she didn't have a clue what she was getting into. It wasn't as though their lives weren't complicated - not to mention _dangerous,_ enough.

"I uh-" She sighed, after silently pondering for it. "I don't think so, John."

"But, if there is, you'll tell me?"

"Of course," She said, quickly taking his hand into her own. "It's just that - I don't know how long I'll be gone and I don't want you to think I'm running away from our mission or anything. It's...this is important but - I can't really tell you. Yet."

"Hey - has there anything ever been important for me or Oliver that you haven't stood by us a hundred percent? You are always there - Felicity. You were there for me and Lyla. For Oliver. You put yourself on the line every day Felicity, even when you don't have to."

Felicity looked at their joined hands as sadness filled her. (Leaving John, leaving Oliver - for what? Uncertainties? Corporate Espionage?)

"Now," He said, squeezing her hand. "If you have to do something, you go on and do it. I understand and Oliver _will_ understand."

Felicity had lived many an unhappy life. Her father leaving her. Her mother's shenanigans. Her lonely childhood. Her broken hearts. Cooper's death. But this life - this mission of being at Oliver's side - this was the _one_ life she loved. Was it worth leaving this one life? Leaving these people that she adored? Leaving Oliver, whom she was certain that she was hopelessly in love with and was satisfied to be on the sidelines loving him without him knowing.

Was it worth leaving all this?

_For protecting Oliver, it is._ Her mind assured her then.  _For now._

 

***

 

"BP's stable." John's voice echoes in her head. "I guess, she's out of the woods."

Her body's on fire - nothing new there - but there's more pain in the injured shoulder now. A stinging, nagging sort of pain.

Her world however is all darkness.

"We should have stored her blood, too." Oliver's voice is raspy and strained.

"Wouldn't have been any good now, anyway, Oliver. It's been more than a year."

 _A year and half,_ the thought registers in Felicity's brain. She's been gone that long and for some reason, she stopped keeping count. 

Oliver's tone is hollow and the desperation she heard at first in his voice is back. "Where the hell has she been, Dig? How did she get mixed up in all this?"

John says nothing.

"I've been so wrapped up with - everything," Oliver says after a small gap. "- it never occurred to me she might have been in trouble."

"Now, hang on Oliver." She hears John say. "She covered her tracks well - if you're at fault, I'm at fault too."

 _Oh, Dig!_ She wants to say. She also wants to tell them that she feels like a worm for what she's been up to.

"I don't know Dig," Oliver responds; his tone is filled with frustration. "I knew something was wrong - something been wrong before she left - and I - I thought by giving her space -"

"Yeah well - she said she wanted privacy!" John says. "She told us not to worry if she didn't keep in touch."

"What did I miss, Dig?" Oliver's voice rises. Just enough to make her ears hurt.

"You're blaming yourself, Oliver." John's voice takes a reassuring tone, as though he's trying to calm Oliver. "It was Felicity's decision."

 _Yes, Oliver,_ she wants to say. _Listen to him. It was my fucking decision. There's a reason I'm not a bad-ass savior of the city - because I make collossally stupid decisions._

"Look at her Dig!" Oliver's voice sounds overtly pained. "This is Felicity we're talking about. She hates blood and needles and...and heights! And she looks like she's been through some - some sort of - _warzone_  !"

 

 ***

  

There was silence in the Foundry that night she last saw him. Felicity heard her heels clicking as she walked down the stairs.

By habit, before she entered she tapped the thermal imaging feed of the Foundry on her tab to check for - well -

( - she had walked in on Oliver and Sara once.

_Once. Thank god._

She had just stepped in when her head turned towards the rhythmic grunting and gasping. She sucked in a deep breath when the first thing she saw was Oliver's butt, half covered with the curve and cleft exposed, rise and fall. She stood shell-shocked watching his shoulder muscles ripple in an almost concerto-like fashion with his movements, his scarred back levering over an obviously naked woman who's face she could not see (and she did not _want_ to see).

Since Felicity was the only other woman who had access to the place, since she was standing there fully clothed, fish-mouthed gaping at Oliver's incomprehensibly awesome ass, logic dictated the other woman to be Sara.

She snapped to her senses and rushed out to give them their privacy, a million thoughts rushing through her head, mainly around how she needed to remind Oliver to hang a proverbial sock on the doorknob every time he was alone with Sara.  

And, while she thought so, she felt jealousy and longing hit her the same time.

And.

Felicity wished it was she, naked, underneath that gorgeous body of his.

Oliver knew she'd walked in on them. He gave her a small knowing smile, a cough and an "I'm sorry." when she returned later that day - _after_ an all-clear was ascertained. )

\- when thermal showed no obvious heat-related 'activity', she sighed with relief and entered only to find the Foundry empty.

But, she knew Oliver was there.

(She could smell him. It was a strong, masculine scent that when mingled the musky cologne he often wore, made for a very heady, arousing smell; when it mixed with his post-workout sweat  - _that scent._

She had caught a whiff of that scent when she caught him with Sara - and every time she thought of it, it felt her with need that she knew could never be met.

Musk and man and sweat - it just....

_well, it just. Yep.)_

 

"Oliver?" She called out, towards the general direction of the shower, as she went to her computers and realized something.

She wouldn't see her babies again.

Felicity sighed and ran her hands over the edges of the computer screens. She gently brushed her fingers over the keypads. She walked around _her_ Arrow Cave - that she'd re-designed taking it all in. She went towards the salmon ladder, sighed loudly and hugged one of its legs looking up at it, imagining Oliver, his sweaty abs and every loud grunt that preceded the clanging noise when he swung upwards on each rung. (She'd always meant to try it once - but she wasn't in the mood for it, then. Instead, she closed her eyes to save the memory of her favourite person doing one among the favorite things she loved watching him do.)

She walked by the glass cases, palming gently over the cases that held his arrows, his bow and finally the suit. She stared sadly at the hood that saved her life and the lives of so many. She leaned her forehead on the glass case and closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

 _It's worth it._ She decided at that time. _It's worth it for him. Even if he never understands it._

"Hey?" His voice startled her. Felicity jumped back rattling the case inadvertently.

"Don't you knock?" She snapped, hastily.

(A smile/not smile greeted her. Making her feel fuzzy all over.) "Felicity..." He chortled a little. "This is..." He motioned to their space.  _This is the Arrow Cave._

_("Felicity, this the IT department." He had said, grinning wide, trying to hold back a laugh. She'd never seen that smile on him before.)_

"Oh right." She recovered. "Sorry - I was..."

"You're back." He stepped forward, the smile waning down a bit. She blinked, realizing just then that he was naked.

(Well - _half_ -naked; with a towel wrapped around his waist. Her eyes dreamily swept over his abs and those beautiful grooves running from the side of his hip bones disappearing underneath the towel. Droplets of water randomly distributed over his scarred skin.

Felicity wished she was one of those droplets at that moment.)

_Ohmigod! He smells so good_

He chuckled. "Thanks," He said. "I think." He was giving her that funny look (the one she got in response every time she forgot to shut her mouth before the glaringly inappropriate came gushing out - like then -) _Ohfrackin'motherof-!_ She had spoken out loud, didn't she?

"How was your trip?" He said, thankfully rescuing her from the awkwardness of the moment, roping her thoughts to reality. He turned around heading towards the place near the cot where he slept.

The weight of her impending conversation and her future actions hit her all at once. Felicity sighed, loudly.

"Felicity?" He said. Felicity's eyes locked with his eyes from across the distance between them. He looked concerned. It had occurred to her that she hadn't said anything. It also occurred to her that she had to store the image of his blue eyes in some part of her brain where she'd never forget them.

She turned around automatically, knowing that he had his boxers in his hands.

(Some conversations between them were unspoken. A squeeze on her shoulder as reassurance; the smile/not smile as a silent laugh of amusement; a glance acknowledging her plea to be careful just before he left for patrol or faced the criminal-du-jour; the beaming eyes silently complementing her good work. The patient silence she would slip into any time he started shouting or yelling; the look of encouragement he sought in her eyes when he had to stand his ground for what was right even when it wasn't easy; the support she could give when he felt the torments of the past pull at him; the privacy she would give when he wanted it.

Unspoken. Unasked. But always acquiesced.)

When she heard his steps towards her, she turned around. He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and still looked as adorable as he did when he was half-naked (Felicity felt a little sad, momentarily, not to be able to see all that glorious skin again).

"Okay." He said.

"Huh?" She murmured, eyeing his wet hair, his chiseled jaw, the small mole at the corner of his lower lip and everything that she could take in.

"You've been pretty mopey all week, Felicity. Is - Is everything okay? Back home?"

She didn't really feel like saying anything.

"You're quiet." He said, plainly.

She nodded.

"And it's freaking me out?" He said, with a tone of amusement. Like he was trying to make a joke, but forgot how.

She nodded, feeling her lower lip quiver.

"Hey! Hey!" He caught her shoulders and began to rub her arm.

How was she going to live the next few months without seeing him? How had he become such an integral part of her life? Why did her heart feel like it had been ripped out and was standing before her rubbing her arm in comfort.

"Felicity?" His voice grew softer as he stepped closer.

His hands grasped her face on either side, forcing her to look up at him. Felicity blinked away tears, taking in those eyes,  storing away all the tenderness she saw in them in her heart so she could lean on the memory of that moment in future -

(- when she would be alone - again).  

"Felicity?" He said. There was unrestrained worry in his eyes, but calm and authority in his voice. "What is wrong?"

 _(Heartbreak._ _Like glass had shattered somewhere in her chest and was clawing at her insides. Like when she realized she would never see her father again.)_

Tears streamed freely as she mumbled in response. "Everything."

 

 ***

 

"Come on Oliver." She hears Diggle's voice in the haze she is in. "It's not like you completely forgot about her. I know you've been cyber stalking her."

That has Felicity's attention. Even though her eyes are closed, she feels alertness seeping into her.

"I've not - been - stalking her!" She hears him mutter in reply.

"Oliver...!" There's amusement in John's voice 

There was silence. Felicity's curiosity peaks. There's no response.

"You really wanna play this out?" She hears John say after a while.

"I've no idea what you're talking about." She hears Oliver says, with an emotionless tone.

"Okay." She hears John say. "I know you've been using _her_ facial rec software to keep track of her whereabouts. I know you've been keeping tabs on her internet presence."

"It's not stalking. I just wanted to be sure she's safe."

"And was she?"

"I - I picked up on a feeds from hospital cams in Coast and Capital and...Gotham, so I just - assumed her mother was ill and I didn't want to intrude."

 _Oh my god, Oliver!_ Felicity feels her heart ache. He'd picked up all her fake alibi feeds that she'd 'plugged' into various CCTV's around the country.

"Exactly." John says. "She'd said it was too difficult to discuss, right? Now, knowing Felicity, I'm sure there's a very good - maybe crazy-cuckoo - but _good_ reason for all this."

"Good enough to hide it from her friends - her partners?" She feels Oliver's warm hand stroke her forehead and then gently caress her cheek. Felicity wonders how it is that when her body ached all over, it was her heart that hurt the most.

"Now - I wonder where she got that habit from?" She hears John mumble, sarcastically. She can almost imagine Oliver rolling his eyes at him in response.

At least he missed her, even as a friend. She has no clue why, but that thought makes her feel weirdly happy.

 

***

 

Fathers leave, whatever.  

Cooper getting arrested and being shanked in prison, strengthened her resolve to live out a decision she had made a long time ago. To live - happily.

Oliver had unwittingly brought copious amounts of darkness into her life. Felicity had to watch innocents die, houses burn, junkies perish, the Glades sink into an artificially hole. She had to watch Oliver bleed;  on the backseat of her car, on the tables in the foundry, in the alleyways of Starling. She had to watch him in his torments -  the grief, the anger and the inconsolable anguish.

_Hatred, evil, violence - despair._

Yet - every morning Felicity Smoak woke up and chose to be happy. 

Until _that_ day.

The day before _that_ day, started out well enough. Felicity had come into work, happy and cheery, only to be assaulted by the sight of the Isabel Rochev in Oliver's office who greeted her with a creepy sneer.

"You're early." Isabel said, silkily. "Or maybe your boss is late. Funny, I thought I'd see you walk in _together_." She said the word 'together' with enough impetus to imply the 'sleeping together' thing.

Felicity did what she always did. She ignored her with a wry smile.

Next thing she knew - she was being 'borrowed' from Oliver because Isabel's assistant was 'taking a personal day' and Isabel needed 'someone to check the audit reports'.

(Point to be noted was that: Isabel had two EAs. But apparently the second one was 'an idiot' and Isabel needed someone who was 'experienced' in 'secretary work'.).

And boy did that day go badly.

Apart from being forced to 'personally check this' and 'personally round off that' and 'personally print this' and "cannot trust the PA with such sensitive documents like the chief-janitor's indent reports so be a dear and meet the head of housekeeping", she had to make five trips to Accounting, all the while receiving a mix of catty and pitiful looks from everyone from IT because, the IT department was on the way to Accounting and everyone she used to work with knew that Oliver Queen had appointed her as his glorified secretary despite her summa-cum-laude degree in computer sciences from MIT (thank you, universe). And to add to it, every time she was asked to swing by Oliver's office, she'd find Isabel huddled over Oliver in a very eerily seductive way - all the while giving Felicity snaky looks. She seemed to be more pleased when Felicity showed her discomfort and at the end of the day Felicity was left with the feeling that that was Isabel's way of pissing all over Oliver to mark him as her prize.

By the time she was ready to clock out she was tempted to get Isabel coffee - _poisoned_ coffee.

To be fair to him, Oliver had given her sympathetic and pleading expressions the whole day and he'd apologized to her on the way to the Foundry that night. Then he, John and Sara left, to chase down a crook who was trafficking young women from Bangladesh while she did her thing with the computers. The crook broke down in ten seconds of being cornered by the three of them, and Felicity listened with rapt admiration as they got the name of the ring leader.

It was at times like those that Felicity wished she was as badass as Sara. (She felt a little jealous - mainly because she knew that Sara was Oliver's type - and then it occurred to her that maybe Isabel was as well - and that thought just made her want to hurl.)

So the next morning, Felicity was up - groggy, exhausted and already cringing at the prospect of seeing Isabel again, but she determined as she did every morning after washing her face - that she would be - happy that day.

 _Happy. Happy. Happy._ "Ugh!" She groaned when she saw her Mom's face flash on the caller ID, when the phone rang. "I haven't had coffee yet."

Her door bell rang simultaneously. Felicity rubbed her eyes, walking towards her door, one eye on the phone debating one whether to take the call or have coffee first.

She knew who was at the door. She opened it fully prepared with her usual resigned smile for Mrs. Fernand and before the old lady could get word in, she said in her fake cheery voice: "No, I haven't seen your cat. Good day." And slammed the door shut. Sighing and staring at the ringing phone.

And it hit her.

That - wasn't Mrs. Fernand.

Felicity, hesitantly rose on the balls of her feet and saw someone else. Some big-ish guy with dark hair. She jumped with a small squeak when the door vibrated as the person rapped, simultaneously ringing the door bell.

She placed the chain lock and opened it - slowly.

He was a giant of a man. On second thought, maybe as tall as Diggle. (And. The dude looked irritated.)

"Miss Felicity - er -?" He said and then suddenly looked down at his palm. "Smoak?"

(Her name was written on his palm?) "You're not Mrs. Fernand." She blurted.

Her gave her a 'Duh!' expression. "No, I'm not, Miss Smoak - now would you please come with me?"

Ugly lookin' fella too, unlike Diggle. Diggle was a good looking man, she thought. Fine specimen of male species, if Felicity could say it - and yeah, she could.

"Say what?" The man at the door said, quickly.

"What?" She muttered.

"You said - you could say something." He said, looking confused.

(Frack, she'd been thinking out loud again.) "Erm, nothing...wait," She said, clearing her throat. "Who are you?"

"Oh - erm - sorry. I'm Joe Pasciatti. I need to um - well my boss needs to talk to you." 

"Who's your boss?"

"Well he - he's in the car."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pasciatii -"

"Big Joe." He interrupted her.

"What?"

"They call me Big Joe."

 _No kidding!_ She thought. "Yeah - so uhm - Mister Big Joe. Sorry - but - I can't just come with you like that. I don't know you - or your boss."

Big Joe looked at her blankly. He nodded at her abruptly and made a gesture at her.

 _To close the door?_ "What you-?" She made a face. "You want me to close the - uh...?"

He nodded, as he took a phone out of his jacked.  Confused, and terribly curious at the same time, she closed the door, keeping her ear to it, trying to hear what he was speaking. Soft murmurs were all she got and then she was just thinking how ridiculous it all was, when the door rattled again.

She jumped when he rapped on the door again and then thought that this whole getting startled-at-her-front-door was getting old.

"Yep?" She greeted him again with a fake grimace (keeping the chain lock on).

"Yeah uh -" Big Joe looked confused. "Mr. David said that your mother was supposed to have called you."

"Wha -?" Felicity said, and then looked down at her phone, noting the five missed calls from her mother.

She groaned inwardly. Another one of her mom's 'friends' needing a favor. Of course. Felicity made a mental note to reprimand her mother ( _"Hacking into the system to fixing parking tickets and 401K paperwork is not legal, okay? Mom? Just because I can do it, doesn't mean I am allowed to!"_ ).

 _Think Happy thoughts._ She told herself, despite wanting to scream at everything in general. _Happy. Happy. Happy._

She squinted up at Joe, feeling irritated and unable to sustain the happy train. "Who's Mr. David?" She muttered, dialling her mother, looking up at Big Joe between pressing the touchscreen buttons.

"Well." Big Joe said, looking uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and then said, "I believe he's your father, Miss Smoak."

\----

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love and more love - more inspiration - more inspiration - more chapters.


	4. Numb

When Felicity's eyes open, she thinks she's dead.

There's darkness all around. Her body is numb and she feels like she's floating above it. She tries to recall what heaven or hell is supposed to be like but she feels so drained she cannot be bothered to draw on old Rabbi Shmul's words.

She turns her head to the side, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

There's a familiarity to the place.

A soft glow draws her attention, accompanied by gentle whirring that she knows belong to a cooling fan of a CPU. Felicity blinks and realizes from the blurry edges of the sight that she's looking at her babies - her computers. She cranes her head upwards and realizes she's looking at blue-hue halo of those glass cases. She can see the silver mannequin, that Oliver hangs his suit on and - it's naked. She can't be sure about the arrows, but she's certain she can see his bow.

Felicity sighs and relaxes her head, looking up at the ceiling, noticing that the lights are off.

(She knows this place. It's home.)

She's home.

She tries to look down at her body, wondering if her soul is floating above it because she doesn't feel anything. 

In the faint light of the poorly lit space, she realizes she's naked-ish. There's a blanket covering just above her cleavage and her right shoulder and arm are wrapped underneath entirely. The left arm (- her good arm, she guesses, because she can tip her chin down to that side without feeling that lancing pain ) is sort of extended out, and partially shielded by the blanket, as though someone had pulled it out from under the covers, unintentionally.

She peers and squints. The action causes an inadvertent change in her optic focus, giving her myopic vision some clarity - temporarily.

She sees a head shape - no - Oliver's head-shape, flopped over her palm.

Felicity understands that she's lying flat on the table in the Foundry. She's on the same table that they've used to tend to Oliver so many times. She understands that Oliver is there as well. From the way his burly body rises and fall, she surmises he's sleeping.  He is dressed in his Arrow suit with the hood off, sitting on the stool, back hunched over with his head down resting on her hand, one large arm of his, draped over her waist and the other hand gently placed over her forearm as though he's trying to ensure that even the slightest movement from her awakens him.

Felicity can't feel his breath on her hand. She can't feel the weight of his arm over her body. She can't even feel the calloused feel of his hand over her good forearm.

She's drugged. Her body is sedated. All attempts to silence the pain, she understand. Successfully.

Felicity should be relieved.

She thinks, she'll take all that hellish pain once more to feel his breath on her palm, to feel the weight of his arm over her body, to feel his touch on her skin - to feel everything that she could feel that came with him.

 

***

 

It was a statement - with an aftertaste of a query, as though he wasn't sure what to say. 

His voice was hollow when he spoke. "You're leaving."

She expected disappointment on Oliver's face after she told him, maybe shock, or maybe even understanding.

(Anything but that look.

That wasn't shock - it looked like...betrayal. The same look he gave her when she told him of Thea's true parentage.)

"Well - no." She started to say, but then fumbled. "I mean, yes - but I don't want to."

He stepped back. Felicity felt a chill run down her arms as he released her.

"I -" She started to say and then stopped. She was unsure. She had expected him to be unhappy, but - not - like this. Felicity felt like she'd just punched him in the gut when he was off guard.

"I don't want you to think I'm backing away from all this or anything." she said, feeling awkward.

He kept looking at her intensely for a while. Too long, a while.

Felicity felt joyous and depressed all at once. Ever since Sara had come into their lives, she'd felt sidelined to a great extent, despite Oliver's & Dig's assurances. Sara and Oliver had their island-bond, Diggle, Sara and Oliver had their training in common and their war stories.

(Felicity never had anyone to share her tech-war stories with. The minute the she babbled code jargon pretty much every one zoned out. They all took her genius for granted as like someone would acknowledged the beauty of a painting, just because the artist by default a good painter. The efforts put into the work that she'd laboured over was mostly underappreciated because no one really knew the intricacies of her expertise.)

Plus, Oliver and Sara's evolving relationship evoked jealousies within Felicity that she never knew she possessed.

The fact the Felicity was something more to _him_ than just their resident tech-nerd was just as lost on her as she _assumed_ that it was lost on them. But, the way Oliver _looked_ at her now - as though - he was losing something.

"I'd never think that Felicity." He said, slowly. "Never."

She gave a small appreciative smile.

"How long?"

"I'm - not sure." She said, truthfully.

Oliver's face suddenly straightened. He launched into the - 'is there anything I can do to help?', 'are you sure?', 'do you promise to call if you need anything?' routine. There was care, yes - but it felt like he was holding back.

"But do you really have to quit QC?." Oliver said, after she'd finished with all her 'No's. "You're gonna need money, Felicity, right? Don't quit. I'll grant you paid leave,  for as long as you want."

"Oliver." she said in her 'aww-'voice. "You can't do that."

"Why not? I'm the CEO."

"Exactly! It's inappropriate - and - " She said. "Isabel wouldn't allow it."

"Isabel doesn't have to know."

"Well, you know, I can't take it." She said. "And I won't. Oliver, don't worry. Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise, I'll call you if I need money."

He didn't look like that it made him feel better. He just gave her a worried look.

"Felicity - are you _sure_ you can't tell me what this is about?"

"Believe me." She said, stepping to hold her arms out to clasp his shoulders. "If it wasn't such a private matter - I'd tell you."

He nodded - and then he stiffened and just stepped back completely.

Gone, was the kind, caring man she'd come to know - the one who never hesitated to squeeze her shoulder, or caress her arms. Gone, was the tender looks and the gentleness in his blue eyes. His face was stoic and expressionless, the lips were set in a thin line - and if she hadn't spent every free minute of her time analyzing and memorizing his face, she'd have never noticed how the vein in his forehead was throbbing or how the muscles of his jaw, twitched ever so imperceptibly.

And if she hadn't known him as well as she did - she'd have thought he looked bored (and - she'd have been hurt.)

When Felicity had learned Oliver's secret identity, she'd powered though an entire pint of mint-chocolate chip without a second's thought of what it would do to her hips. The morning after, she stared at her laptop, sifting through all the articles on the Hood, and finding a determination within that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Since then, he'd pushed all her limits of tolerance. Heights, sutures, needles, killing people, exploding anger, scary looks, gross island stories, general asshole-ry, wound tending, bone resetting (ew!) and blood ( _ohgod! The amount of blood!)_. Every despicable thing she imagined she would never get near in her life, he threw in her face and forced her to accept.

But, she was determined, and - even though she wondered how, Felicity never thought to run away from it all.

At that moment, Felicity realized why. _It's Oliver._

She realized that she knew Oliver as best he could be known after the darkness had consumed his life those wretched five years that he'd been away. She knew the goodness in his heart despite the demons he fought. 

He was stepping back and resigning to the loss of her, even if temporarily. There was emotion there, for sure - but emotion he tried to keep away from her, more out of the desire  _not_ to inconvenience her rather than keep secrets. 

Maybe he would never know of the all-consuming love with which she pined for him; maybe he would never appreciate the magnitude of sacrifice she was prepared to make for him, he would never knew how leaving him broke her heart to a thousand million pieces, maybe he would hate her all her natural life for what she was embarking on.

Maybe. But.

Felicity knew in that moment, even if Oliver never felt an iota of the fierce romantic love she felt for him - he loved her as a _friend_. Completely. Enough, to hold himself back, for her sake.

That was reason enough.

_"Maybe not for me, Felicity, but I know for a fact you'd would give anything to protect Oliver Queen."_

Of course, she would.

 

***

 

Her mouth is so dry, it feels like she has cotton for lips. She clears her throat - hoping it will wake him. It doesn't. Which takes her by surprise - because he's generally so alert even if he's in deep sleep.

She's too numb to move. She turns her head to the other side and winces - the right shoulder starts off with pin-prick pains. Her eyes search the darkened Foundry for Diggle. Felicity clears her throat again and thinks about moving, hoping some of her limbs have some reaction.

What she finds more alarming and strangely alluring in this state of hers, is that he's still in deep sleep.

She stares at his head, smacking her lips - the dry sensations are driving her crazy. She wonders if she should call out and she's about to croak out sound, but she hears footsteps. She gently cranes her neck towards them, feeling more aware of that damned wounded shoulder.

Being myopic and spectacle-less is big pain in the ass she decides while she peers at the shape coming towards her.

 _John._ She mouths, aware that it is him.

She'd know his shape anywhere. He places a hand on her forehead but she doesn't feel it. She blinks up at his form. He brings his head closer.

Felicity almost cries for joy because she sees his face, a lot clearer. He must see the distraught look on her face because he has a large comforting smile - a big fat Diggle smile - filled with love, and care and concern, just for her _._ He jerks his head towards Oliver's sleeping form, once and then  whispers softly. "Hey."

 _Hey! Hi!_ She attempts to say back. She realizes there's no sound coming from her throat.

He shakes his head in an assuring manner, as though telling her not to strain herself. She smacks her lips at him, knowing he'll understand.

"I'll get you some ice-chips..." He nods, firmly. "Can you feel anything?"

She shakes her head, then tips her face, towards Oliver's sleeping form.

Diggle gives her a knowing smile. "I think." He says, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he speaks, "This is probably, the first time, he's slept properly, since you've been gone."

Felicity feels her eyes widen. Diggle continues. "Yeah - he's been a grumpy dickhead without you, Felicity."

Felicity blinks after Diggle with uncertainty as he moves away to fetch her water.

 

***

 

It was one of those high end Jaguars - just like the ones that Queens had - with seats that faced each other.

If the man who sat before her, was other than who he said he was, Felicity would probably have been a) abducted b)killed c)photographed in her stringy camisole & pajamas d)god-only-knows - and it would all be her fault, and Diggle would be the first to shake his head at her (given the amount of self-defence and proceed-with-caution tutoring he had given her).

She was in such a state of shock when Big Joe said the words that she couldn't recall how she ended up in the car facing him. She didn't recall unchaining her front door and wandering out after Big Joe, or getting into the car.

She had the phone to her ear, her mother's voice vibrating on the phone. _"Baby girl - I know this is - is - well I dunno - sudden? Honey - your Dad's back. He may visit. Felicity? Can you hear me? Honey?"_

"I'll call you back." She said and placed the phone in her lap.

(Well, it was technically Felicity's fault that she hadn't received the call the first time, but she wasn't sure if that would abate the stunned, numb feeling she had.)

If she'd seen the man before her randomly on the street, she'd never recognize him.v(Not that Felicity really remembered much about him. But -) The man she stared at did not resemble the father she vaguely remembered.

Her father was a handsome man with lovely chestnut brown hair and beautiful eyes that her mother had fallen for and Felicity had inherited. He was strong, and tall and his hands were firm every time he'd throw her up in the air and catch her as she came down.

The man before her was a withered, emaciated person, with lots of stupid brownish hair that didn't match with what she knew to be her own brown roots and a pale ashen face. The only thing that had any semblance of humanity on his face were his eyes. They were her eyes, staring back at her. And he looked at her - intensely, with - emotion.

( _what emotion? Fatherly-ness? After so many years, can someone who leaves you feel that for you?_ )

"You're sick." She said, blandly.

"Felicity." He said, in a voice that seemed emotionless, and hadn't been used in years. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He looked unsure of what to say.

Felicity was silent. If her friends were there, they'd be amazed at her silence - but her friends didn't know that Felicity was a quiet person in many ways. There was a stillness inside her when it came to her childhood.

"I didn't expect you to be happy to see me." He said, his voice trembling.

"You're sick." She repeated.

"I know this is unprecedented." He said. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here unless..."

"You're _sick_." She said again.

"Felicity," He said. "Before you judge..."

"No." She cut him off. "I mean you're sick - as in _ill_."

He was flummoxed. (Good.) Felicity took his appearance in, then - the pale ashen skin, the wrinkles at his mouth, the hollowed cheeks - his hair...

"I didn't think you'd recognize me." He said.

"I don't." She said curtly. "I don't even know who you are."

"Felicity, sweetheart..."

"Shut up." She hissed. Her insides were cold. The _thing_ \- the monster inside that loves to fuck bad boys and draws her to trouble-magnets lifted it fingers and started rapping against a door that she kept closed for good reasons -because Rage answered that door.

Before he responded she spoke, sharply. "What do you want?"

"Felicity, c'mon..."

"What? A kidney?" She cut him off again.

He closed his mouth and gave her a resigned expression.

"A piece of my liver?" She said, her voice rising up a little more. "I can't give you all of it, unless, you plan to cut it out of me after I'm dead."

"Felicity..." He said - looking hurt.

(Good. She was glad for that.)

"Money, then?" She said, anger becoming more evident when she spoke.

"I don't need money." He said, giving a wry half-laugh that wasn't really a laugh.

She huffed. "What is it? Cancer?" She said. "It looks like cancer."

He tipped his chin down and sighed. "You were always so observant, even as a toddler."

"Pity your friends aren't observant enough." She said, trying to sound a mean as she could possibly sound. "That hairpiece you have on is utterly ridiculous. Either they're fools or they haven't told you the truth about how pathetic it is."

A small smile breaks on his face.

"I'm not trying to be funny." She said, irritated. "I have to get to work. I have a lot of important things to do today - and _you_ are not important enough to make it on that list. So, I'm asking you, again, _Ezra_. What. Do. You. Want?"

(She spat his name - it seemed like a fitting thing to do.)

He exhaled a long sigh and finally, after a long pause, said, "Bone marrow."

"Okay." She said.

His head snapped up. "Huh?"

"Okay - I don't think giving bone marrow's such a big deal." She sighed. "I've read up about it - organ donations and everything. Actually, I've read a lot. I listed myself as an organ donor some time back - not that it matters to you - but I did." She was aware she was rambling and she couldn't care less what he thought about it. "The point is - if you'd asked me for a kidney or maybe I dunno my corneas or something I'd have to give it some serious thought. I'll get tested for the bone-marrow. I don't think it'd be much of  a loss." She pouted as she made a mental calculation from all her research. "Apparently it regenerates like - super fast."

"I - uh -" He snorted, incredulously. "Just like that?"

"Yep." She snapped. "Now, you can go." She reached her arm for the door. "Have your guy call me and set up the appointment." She adds as afterthought: "In Starling. I can't be flying out to wherever you are or have been. I'll get tested and we'll take it from there."

"Felicity, I'm not done."

"No?" She jerked her head to him. Felicity as good as bit out the words: "What _more_ do you want from me? I think I'm being pretty generous here, wouldn't you say? You disappear from my life - from _our_ lives. Not a call, a fax or an email in how many years - twenty? Not damn cent from you! and I love her and everything but she's - she's - she's _Mom_! You leave me alone with _her_ for all these years! I'd say I'm really, goddamn _peachily,_ generous here, Ezra!"

"Yes, you are." He said, raising his palms up in a placating manner. "But Felicity - I'm not here for..."

"I hope you die a painful death." She said, coldly. And didn't regret it. At all. (And she wondered where this part of her came from that could be...so cruel.)

He pursed his mouth and then nodded slowly. "I deserve that, I guess."

She nodded. "Yeah - so I'm-" She motions to the door of the car.

"Felicity." He said, leaning forward. "Wait - this is not about the bone marrow."

She huffs and gives him an impatient look.

"Look, I know I've not exactly been the fath- "

"Yeah, let's not do that." She said, abruptly. "The whole 'apologies for running out on you and your mother when you were a child thing'. It's very - _not_ okay."

He pursed his lips again and nodded. "Okay - at least hear me out." He said and then added.

"Why?"

"Why" He echoed. "Because I'm your father, that's why."

"Are you kidding me?" Felicity yelled (like super-loud voice). She unlocked the door, ready to kick it open. "You were a _fucking_ sperm donor, Ezra - that's all you are and that's all I owe you." Felicity felt her body tremble with anger. "So," she said, "You get my bone marrow - maybe I'd have given you a kidney if I'd have been a better mood, but since I'm not, we're done there - but that's _it!_ That's all!"

"Look," He said, quickly." I'm grateful you'll get your bone marrow tested, but that's not the entire reason I'm here. I'm not here to _take_ something from you, Felicity. I'm here to give you something."

"Well, I don't want anything from you." She said, glaring at him, turning to the door.

"I knew you'd feel that way but I need to you take  - Felicity - please listen to me, Felici- I'm dying! Please, just listen!"

The 'dying' thing stopped her. (Because as horrid as she felt, and as nasty as she wanted to be, Felicity knew that she couldn't do it.) Her hand paused on the door's inner handle.

"I want to give you - my company. I want to give you SF Incorporated." He said quickly. "And I need something else from you."

If she hadn't been so angry - the name would have registered. But cold rage and violence tormented her within. She felt grief, hatred, loss and rejection all at once. Felicity didn't want anything to do with him - she just wanted to get out of the car and get back to her life.

"You are a thief, a gambler and a liar." She said, in her cold, calm voice. "Whatever you have made, is very likely built on stolen money and I want nothing to do with it. I don't care that you have cancer, Ezra. I don't care how many years you've spent  building up your fake little pretext of an - " Felicity suddenly stopped and it hit her. "SF Incorporated?"

Ezra smiled.

"You own - you - SF Inc. is yours?" She said, incredulously.

"And now, it will be yours." He said. Felicity did not miss the condescension in his voice.

"SF Inc is not owned by one person." She said, warily.

His face fell. "Yes, it is. But I made a miscalculation and some stupid decisions and now it's under the guise of being owned by a group and - it's complicated, I need to explain it - but I need your help."

"My help?"

"I need to get my company and _some_ of my more valuable assets back." He said, sounding a little out of breath.

Felicity didn't miss that his breathing had become laboured. She noticed him reaching for something in a box attached to the door on his side. He pulled out a long tube and then wrapped it around his face. Felicity watched him place the breathing prongs into his nose and take slow and deep breaths.

She huffed and shook her head. "Y'know what?" She said. "I don't care if your company is only the ninth largest tech conglomerate in the world." Her tone turned accusatory. "I don't care about _anything_ Ezra because knowing you, you're probably laundering money. Or. I dunno maybe you're funding terrorists. Because. It is _you_. And you've never been anything less than a selfish deadbeat. I don't care how many fancy cars you own or how big you think you are. If you're in trouble, it's probably because of something unethical you did." She pushed the door open and said, "We're done." and made to get out.

"Felicity - hey!" He shouted. "I don't have time for this!"

She looked at him incredulously. "And I don't have time for you!" She replied back (in her loud voice); not caring that the entire street could probably have heard her. "Why should I care about anything even _remotely_ related to you Ezra?"

Her phone began to ring. Felicity saw it was Oliver and slid out the seat with her foot on the tar road.

"Felicity." Ezra said, in warning tone.

Big Joe suddenly came into her view. She was half-seated trying to get out of the car and Big Joe was blocking her.

 _Whatever_. Felicity had Oliver and all she had to do was answer the phone and scream.

She jabbed the green 'answer' button. _"Hey!_ " She heard him say.

"Oliver." She said, a little too loudly, staring at Ezra defiantly.

"Felicity, c'mon!" Ezra hissed. "Don't do it like this - just listen!"

 _"Felicity? Are you okay?"_ Oliver spoke from the other end of the line.

"Yep, hey!" She said, in her fake happy voice. "I'm grrreat!"

_"Er...okay. I needed you to check about today's..."_

"Felicity." Ezra whispered. "You don't owe me anything, I know. And you may not care about me..."

"Why I should I want to do anything for you?" She hissed, keeping her hand over the phone's mic-end, as Oliver continued to speak. (She knew Oliver wouldn't mind having to repeat stuff for her, she reckoned - he was used to it - what with all her rambling and zoning out and everything.)

_"...I know Isabel's not your favourite person and I hate to ask you to do this, but can you...Felicity? Are you there? Felicity?"_

"Maybe not for me, Felicity," Ezra whispered. "but I know for a fact you'd would give anything to protect Oliver Queen."

Felicity's eyes snapped in a vengeful scowl, meeting her father's eyes.

_Those were her eyes, staring back at her._

_"Felicity? Hello?"_ Oliver's voice echoed in her ears.

Ezra leaned back in his seat and gave her a crooked smile. Felicity slammed the door of the Jaguar shut.

"Oliver Queen?" He repeated in a soft taunting voice. "Or as I like to call him - the Arrow?"

 

\---->

Da da daaaa...TBC.


	5. In the darkness, I seek you out

Oliver's head snaps up the minute Diggle returns with a white cup that makes a soft rattling noise.

(She can see and she can hear - but is so strange that she can't _feel_.)

Felicity watches as Oliver's face tenses and something stirs within her from the familiarity of it all. How his eyes do a quick scan of the room and then immediately lock on to hers. How his pupils focus - and his face relaxes. It's been more than a year - but some things, Felicity is glad to see - don't change. His arm muscles relax and he slowly releases the hold over her waist, as he straightens up. His other palm is still in contact with the skin of her forearm.

And she wants nothing more than to feel it.

He drags the stool, coming closer towards her face. Concern in his eyes, he places the palm over her forehead and smoothens back her hair.

And she wants nothing more than to feel that too.

Diggle places an ice-chip over her lower lip - and Felicity can barely feel its coolness on her lips but she is bombarded with taste (which is funny - because ice or water is tasteless - but -) it's a whole different sensation from the cotton mouth feeling. She latches on to it and takes it in, allowing it to melt in her parched mouth.

So simple a thing, can bring such pleasure.

Her eyes flutter close in relief at the feeling, even if it means breaking contact with Oliver's tender look (and she had noticed his encouraging smile - as though he'd been longing to see the expressions on her face. And it made him so deliciously adorable.)

Diggle gives her a few more ice chips before she is able to find her voice again.

"Why can't I feel anything?" She says. Her voice sounds like it's grating on sandpaper.

"It's this...new drug." Diggle says. "It's like anaesthesia but allows you to be more conscious."

She swallows the wetness of the melted ice, revelling in its bland taste.

"Hey?" Oliver says, after a while. "How do you feel?"

"I don't know..." She says. "I need to -" She pauses to think for a minute and then looks towards Diggle. "John. I need to get up."

"Felicity." Diggle says. "You have a  pretty nasty set of injuries here."

(And doesn't she know it!)

"It's a miracle you survived that little stunt of yours." He says.

(She wants to tell him that it's a miracle she survived this past year and half, but she doesn't think it makes for a great conversation starter.)

"Felicity." Oliver draws her attention away from Diggle. The look on his face breaks her heart.

"I missed you." She blurts, before he can say anything. She doesn't look at Diggle, but she doesn't want him to feel left out - so she says (though she's still looking into Oliver's heartbreakingly tender eyes). "You too, John"

Diggle responds with a snort of acknowledgement. She shifts her eyes to him (- and she missed Oliver more, and she knows that Diggle knows it, and he doesn't mind- ) and he winks at her. She shifts her eyes back to Oliver.

A wan smile breaks on Oliver's face. "I've missed you, too." He tips his head closer. "I'm happy you're here - that you're safe."

Like a fast-forward youtube video of a tree growing from a sapling, Felicity feels something grow, flower and fruit within her soul - even if she feels nothing in her physical body.

She knows what it is. It's what she needs.  

It's hope and...

...courage.

 

***

_"Felicity? Felicity!"_

Ezra's eyes held hers even though Felicity was acutely aware of the massive pounding in her chest.

(She could hear panic rising in Oliver's voice.)

There was some bustling she heard from the other line (- or maybe she sensed it - because she knew Oliver so well. He may have risen up from his seated position, may have been heading for the Arrow cave from whichever part of the city he was calling from. He may have been reaching for a computer to track her phone.)

"I'm here," She said, clearing her throat (hoping to clear her head in the process), her eyes not leaving Ezra's while she spoke. "I'm sorry, Oliver - I uh - I dropped the phone."

She could hear him exhale in relief. (Maybe he was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Maybe he was returning back to what he had started out with.

Maybe she should scream - alarm him - cry for help.)

"I'm here." She repeated and shut her eyes for a second, imagining the wavy worry lines that would appear on Oliver's forehead relax.

 _"Okay."_ His voice sounded quiet; like he was expecting more of an explanation.

"Oliver?" She said. "Can I call you back? I'm - a little discombobulated now."

_"What do you mean?"_

"Yeah - no..." She said, her brain racing a mile a minute to find some excuse, watching Ezra, who disconnected the nasal prongs, looking at her bemusedly."It's just, I think it was last night's sushi - I don't think it..."

 _"Felicity."_  She could hear the small sheepish smile in his voice, when he interrupted. " _I meant - what do you mean by discom- discobubu...?"_

"Discombulated." Felicity repeated (a laugh rumbled inside her. Despite herself, she couldn't help the smile, thinking of Oliver's confused expression with fondness.) She broke eye-contact with Ezra.

 _"Well - I didn't exactly ace my tenth-grade advanced vocabulary test either."_ He was chuckling.

"You got a C minus, mister." She chided, playfully. "It's better than a D, but still a little low - even for you." Her smile broke into a full-fledged grin. (Felicity also felt her stiffened spine relax - and realized she'd been sitting ram-rod straight at the edge of the seat. Her heart felt warm at soft sounds of his muted laughter. It was as though the _thing-beast_ suddenly stopped rapping its knuckles at her inner defences; like her heart was able to move at its normal pace again.)

 _"And trust you to know that."_ His voice - sounded....cheery.

Funny. Making Oliver feel better was her thing - it was seldom the other way around.

 _"Yeah - so -"_ He said, _"Even if I don't know what that word means, you'll call me back? Soon?"_

"Yep!" Felicity inadvertently leaned back and sighed. "I - uh-  I haven't even had my coffee yet."

 _"Okay then. Bye."_ And then he hung up.

Felicity sighed and shook her head, smiling at the phone, looking at Oliver's caller-ID pic. She'd forced him to smile when she took that picture and even though his smile looked forced on the screen now, she knew that there were so many genuine smiles in the conversation they'd just had.

(Dimples gleaming - so many times - even though he didn't want them to. His mouth would betray him and the corners would be up closer to each ear. He'd blush sometimes, when he didn't want to smile - he'd avert his eyes but teeth would be bared in a grin.) She thought of those expressions, dreamily. It was at times like these...

"Seems like you two are close." Ezra spoke.

Felicity's mind and her face went blank.

(Oh.

Him.

She'd forgotten about him.)

She inhaled a deeply and pulled the car door shut. She forced her brain and her heart to calm down.

"Talk." Is all she said.

 

***

"Is it broken?" She says, looking at Diggle, nodding towards the side of her injury.

"No - but it's no good, Felicity. It was an open laceration, your muscles are exposed and..."

"But I can use my fingers?"

Diggle exchanges looks with Oliver.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes." She says. "How does this drug wear off? Can it be reversed?"

"It's wearing off now -" Diggle says. "In about a half hour you'll be in pain - and it will not be pretty."

"It never is." She mutters. "I need to get up -" She says, in her cool voice. "I need to get to those computers - and I need to do this now. Like super-urgently...now."

"Felicity." Oliver says; his hand continues to stroke her head. "That's crazy. You can't be thinking of..."

"Oliver." She cuts him off. "I've done some pretty stupid and crazy things over these past eighteen months."

He cocks his head towards her with an expectant expression. "Why?" He asks. "And...what?"

"I  _will_ tell you -" She starts to ramble, feeling overwhelmed. "Everything. Later. And you're gonna be mad - with like super angry-face mad - and- you're probably never gonna wanna speak to me ever again -"

"Hey. hey." He shushes her.

"- And." She finds her voice wavering. "And....and...."

"Felicity." He says, gently. "There's no way I could ever be mad at you."

"Oh trust me, I think I've found a way to make you mad." Felicity whines, not paying attention to his words or Diggle's protests. "And I promise you I am really - like super-insanely sorry that it had to be this way - and I am sorry that you're gonna be so hurt when I tell you  and I'm sorry about leaving this, all of this - us - Team Arrow. I know you hate it when I call us that. But - I missed you guys so much..." Her eyes are blurry and when she blinks she feels a coolness run down the side of her eyes to her ears.

Tears.

 (Oliver continues to stroke her head with that impossibly tender expression on his face. The one that makes her feel like crying all the more. The one that makes her want to bury her head in his chest.)

"And believe me..." She's practically weeping now. "I would _die_ before either of you get hurt. Which is why this sucks because I'm the one who'll be doing all the hurting. Not physically. Because you guys are crazy-strong and like c'mon, I'm still a nerdy IT girl with wimpy fists. Nope - not physically but emotionally. Not that you guys are emotional but you know - you get the..."

Oliver, contrary to her expectations, isn't getting distressed or annoyed. The sad smile grows more amused. His dimples begin to show. There is this funny look in his eyes - like - like he's happy to hear her ramble again. He isn't even interrupting her.

"But I'm afraid - I've been out, playing bad guy. Or girl." She continues to blabber. "Or whatever. And I had this really - _really_ \- killer plan which totally bombed. But - I need to get to a computer. Or I'll be in big - like in your face monstrous big - like jumping out of an airplane without a parachute big - "

("Oliver," She hears Diggle say softly, in the background of her rather articulate rant. "Her BP and heart-rate's going sky high. She might start bleeding again.)

Felicity's lower lip quivers as she finishes her statement. "... _big_ trouble. So you have to help me get up."

"Felicity." Oliver sighs, glancing several times towards Diggle. "You'll be in a lot of pain."

"I'm already in a lot pain." She whimpers. "But I _have_ to do this before -" She fades off.

Oliver's eyebrows are knit together with worry lines running over his forehead. He leans back and sighs with a sad expression.

(And he looks kissably gorgeous while he does so.)

 

***

 

"Talk." She said.

"You haven't had breakfast I'm sure." Ezra said. "How about we go someplace...?"

"Talk, now. Here." She commanded.

Ezra sighed and handed her a file that was lying in the vacant seat by his side. As she opened it and flipped through, he clicked on a button on his hand rest. He told the driver to drive around for a bit and instructed Joe to stop if they see a coffee place.

She didn't care to interrupt him.

There were pictures in the file, with schematic face grids from facial recognition analysis. Pictures from dated CCTV footage from all over the city from the last two years - of  the Hood and the Arrow and what looked like snap shots of Oliver Queen, CEO.  There was a summary report of Oliver's history with Queen Consolidated. There was a copy of the insurance investigation report of the Queen's Gambit's accident - that fated boat. There was a report of two timelines of two people. One of the vigilante's sightings and the other of Oliver Queen's whereabouts.

They matched.

She looked at the grungy CCTV snapshots with the hooded Oliver's face turned away from the camera, but his head was captured at an angle with his chin jutting out. Another photograph, capturing a similar position of Oliver in better quality, with better lighting. It seemed to be from one of the fund-raisers thrown at Verdant. There was a third picture was a gridline overlay of both pictures where the lines superimposed -

 - perfectly.

(That impossibly sexy jaw of his was a dead giveaway. She'd always worried about someone picking up on that.)

"That's from a biometric facial analysis software I _borrowed_. Faster and more accurate than the FBI's." Ezra said, after he peered at what she was looking at. "But you know that." He said, in a consolatory tone. "Software's patented to Queen Consolidated. Software that _you_ wrote."

She glanced at him once and then back at the file.

"I'm not going to dance around the subject, Felicity." He said, after a while. "Your boss is the vigilante."

She didn't say anything.

He sighed, loudly and then spoke.  "You have a masters degree in cyber security and computer sciences from MIT." He said, giving her a curious expression. "You expect me to believe that becoming Oliver Queen's personal assistant was the future you envisioned when you applied for college?"

"It's...executive assistant." She said - feeling stupid once she said it out loud.

"Secretary." Ezra said, definitively.

"Y'know what? Whatever. What do you care?" She said. "So maybe you have some pictures and some analysis reports - what does the Arrow's identity have to do with anything?"

"Funny thing is." He said; a small sneer spreading across his face as he spoke. "I like to be in the business of valuable information. It was coincidental but I did keep tabs on Queen Consolidated - especially after Robert Queen's death. Their technical subsidiaries are our competitors after all."

She made a small face.

"I had deduced Oliver Queen to be the Hood, you know -  even before I learnt that you were in Starling. Information like that always comes in handy."

She snorted indignantly.

"You know, Felicity -" His tone changed to sly. "A lot of the work that the Arrow does requires the expertise of a hacker. The research that went into deducing Queen to be the Vigilante required unorthodox methods on my part -  and I'm not just talking about stealing that biometric analysis software of yours." He pointed to the file in her hands. "I found a lot of missing reports, missing DNA samples, sudden power outages, inconvenient CCTV malfunctions, accidental camera-feed deletions. It didn't take me long to figure that he had a guard  - and I don't mean that gigantor who functions his bodyguard." By the time Ezra had said this, there was a lopsided, wicked grin on his face. "I mean -" He added, emphatically, "A _cyber_ -guard."

Felicity held her breath.

"When I learnt that an IT specialist was appointed as his secretary," He said. "I figured her to be his 'technical brain'. It seemed like a logical cover for someone who keeps one's identity safe all the time. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was you."

 _Breathe, breathe, breathe._ She told herself.

"You were taken in for questioning last year, by some detective - Lance, was it? For your possible association with the Hood?" He cocked his head at her while he said that.

Felicity gulped.

"And - didn't the Arrow kill the Count - the one who had taken you hostage at QC?" He said, in a deliberate faux-innocent tone. "While Moira Queen's verdict was being deliberated on, and Oliver Queen had disappeared from the court's premises. What curious timing."

"What's your point?" She said, after a failed attempt to come up with some way to prove Ezra wrong and make up better excuses for Oliver - and herself.

"Like I've already told you, Felicity." Ezra said. "I don't have much time, so let's not do the ignoramus dance. I've had my share of indulging in criminal activities. I even have some wealthy people with questionable ethics and questionable hobbies who've needed my technical assistance. I know, with certainty - that having a technical specialist or a 'nerd' as yuppies put it these days, is almost a _mandate_ for the kind of activities the vigilante engages in."

Felicity saw no sense to engage in any defensive arguments; but she saw no reason to engage in any conversation at all. So she kept silent.

"And here's the thing -" He said, when he realized that she wouldn't speak. "I don't care that Oliver Queen is the Arrow. Good for him, that he is."

Felicity frowned at him in response. He continued. "And, it's not that I'm not grateful for the bone marrow offer, Felicity. But - at this point I can buy myself a matching donor. In fact - I already have one on my payroll. What I _cannot_ buy is someone who has a certain level of expertise. What I need, to get SF Inc. back."

She opened her mouth to say something but he interrupted. "And." He said, "I want my legacy to be handled by someone who appreciates the genius of my enterprises." He gave her an intense look and then said. "It just so happens - that _that_ person, is you."

"Y'know..." She said. "I'm sure there are thousands of comp-sci prodigies and budding hackers whom you can recruit who are just as competent..."

"Had you been another man's daughter -" He said, before she could complete her sentence. "I'd be offering you a job. But. As it turns out - you are my daughter and that's what makes all of this so...inconvenient."

"Well, maybe you can just pack up and run off like you did in the good ol' days." She drawled sarcastically. "That's how you've always handled inconveniences."

"Felicity, I won't pretend to be a father here. I am not even going to assume that telling you that I'm sorry that I hurt you would make any difference. I can tell you that I don't regret leaving your mother..." He trailed off into silence.

"Because we were _in_ your way?" She retorted. "The proverbial millstone holding you down...keeping you away from all the money and power and glory?"

"Yes." He said, bluntly. She snorted.

"I know, apologies won't do it, though I was prepared to try those at first." He said. "I know sentiment won't work - but I was prepared to do that as well. I would have considered threatening you, but - I'm pretty sure threats don't do much for you either given the history of your nightly activities the past two years."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I made peace with my guilt the day your Mom contacted me about your financial requirements. It made things easier for my conscience, actually."

"Wait, what?" Felicity interjected. "Mom contacted you?" (How? And how did Felicity not know about all that.)

"Yes - " He said, frowning. "Who did you think sponsored your scholarship for MIT?"

Dragonfly Ventures - she was going to answer - the venture capitalist agency that offered her the scholarship as part of their corporate social responsibility program.

 _Idiot._ She thought to herself, when the pieces clicked together.  _Dragonfly is a sub-enterprise of SF Inc._

Suddenly, a whole lot of things about her sudden miraculous funding for college made a lot of sense.

 

(How calmly her mother had assured her, that they'd find away to pay for her tuition. How her mother mysteriously disappeared the weekend after Felicity received the acceptance letter into MIT - Felicity had assumed she was on a mini-vacation with one of her Vegas Strip pick-ups at the time.

When Donna had returned, she had with her a pamphlet of Dragonfly's CSR program. She claimed her gentleman friend had given her the idea.

"It's a scholarship for smart kids like you." She said. "All you have to do is write some story about why you need it and list out all those science prizes of yours."

Felicty had never heard of the agency, until then. A quick search assuaged her fears that their CSR program may not be legit. Sure enough, they provided scholarships for gifted students needing financial support for Ivy League schools. Yet, even for a cash-rich venture capitalist agency, Dragonly had a very limited budget for college funding. From what she researched, the scholarships they provided seldom covered full tuition cover, which was why it was so obscure.

"Give it a shot, sweetiepie," her mother piped, when Felicity expressed her apprehensions. "You never know."

With nothing to lose, Felicity sent in her application.

Within a week she received a letter stating that they would cover the entire damn tuition and her living expenses.

Felicity had been so ecstatic, it never occurred to her to question why her otherwise rotten luck had unexpectedly taken such a positive turn.)

 

And now, Felicity wished, she'd never gone to college.  

(But then she would never have met Oliver.

 _Gah! Damn you Karma!_ )

"I was happy to oblige." Ezra said, drawing her back to the present. "It's not like you didn't deserve it." He continued. "You were my daughter. I was happy you turned out like me....and not..." He broke off.

Not like Donna. Not ditsy, floozy, make-up obsessed, silly Donna. That's what he wanted to say, Felicity surmised; and she resented him for it.

"And that was that, Felicity." He said.

"So because you paid for college, I'm supposed to owe you my intellect?" She quipped.

"I meant to say.." He sighed with a sad expression on his face. "That I paid for college - as a way to make up for screwing you over. I did love you...whether you want to believe it or not. And not a day went by that I didn't think of you - but I knew that it would never be enough, to say these things. I couldn't make up for lost time. So, when Donna called me to tell me of your acceptance to MIT - it gave me a window to _contribute -_  in  some way. What I'm saying is - college is me trying to repay a bit of what I owe you. And I did consider offering you a position at SF Inc. - but you _opted_ to work as some mediocre tech support staff at QC."

Felicity rolled her eyes at him for saying that. 

He huffed.  "So, I left you to your choices." He said. "Even though I knew how your brilliance was wasted there."

He paused to breathe deeply. She waited patiently, as he reached for the oxygen tubings again.

"But then." He resumed to say, after he recovered his breathing, somewhat. He trailed off again.

"Then you got cancer." Felicity said, hollowly.

"Then - I got cancer." He echoed.

"And you want to reconnect?" She said, wryly. "By handing over your company? Is that supposed to make things better?"

"I think we're past reconnection - so no." He said, calmly. "My company is the only thing I've done right in my life. I had hoped to give you a chunk of it, when the time was right. And about twelve years ago, I had set up a trust fund in your name which was to be yours once you turned twenty-five...along with some stakes and a valuable position on the board, but..."

"But?"

" - but - I made some mistakes. I underestimated some people. The financial investments were drained and your trust fund was declared defunct before you turned twenty-four. I had nothing to give you any more."

"I wouldn't have taken your money, anyway." She mumbled.

"I would still have tried to give it to you." He said, raising his eyebrows at her. "But that doesn't matter now. The point is, I got pushed out of my own company. And I was trying to get it back until - well - I realized that I wasn't able to. This is a resistant leukaemia. Keeps coming back."

Had another person been telling her this story, Felicity would have been in tears, maybe sobbing out of sympathy for them - because that was just the sort of person she was.

When she listened to him - her father - that man who abandoned her, all Felicity felt was...nothing.  

"I am running out of time." He said, "And I need to get some assets back first, then I can get my company back. I've realized I need someone with exceptional coding skills. That's you. I need someone who understands the need to push limits and is _not_ confined by boundaries or protocol. That's you. I need someone I can entrust those assets to, after I'm gone, someone who appreciates their - intricacies - and that's you."

"So - you need my brain, yippee." She muttered.

"If Felicity Smoak had been another man's daughter, this conversation would have gone a lot easier. I know no amount of money or promises or even threats would work. So I had to search for other options to convince you."

Felicity was veritably confused. "Other options?"

Then that conniving smile reappeared on his face. "You are a very important part of the reason that Queen's identity remains a secret." He said, the slyness slipping back into his tone. "And it is a very valuable secret, isn't it? Imagine the threat to his life - lets ignore the illegality of his hobbies for a bit - what about the legitimate danger to his life from his targets? What about the danger to his family? His mother, his sister - his lovers - his friends. The identity of the Hood - or the Arrow as he is called now - needs to be a secret. Doesn't it? And who better to take care of that than you?"

Felicity exhaled slowly. 

"And if this identity was -" He shrugged. "- I dunno - maybe, _splashed_ all over the internet or maybe slipped around the Darknet - would Oliver Queen be able to defend himself? I mean - he is just one man - an able one, maybe, but still - _a_ man."

Felicity bit her lower lip as fear crept into her heart.

"I think..." Ezra leaned forward. "I _think_  - that as stubborn you are about hating me, Felicity, there are a few things that you treasure enough to overcome that. Like - your loyalty to Oliver Queen, for example."

He smiled as his eyes fixed on the unabashedly obvious expression on her face. "And." He said. "I only have to look at you right now, to know that I'm right."

She closed her eyes.

 

***

 

Felicity groans.

Madam Pain returns - in a crescendo fashion - slowly and progressively increasing; and Diggle was right about it (or _her_ \- if one acknowledges that Pain indeed is a dominatrix of a woman -) coming back with a vengeance. Felicity literally screams into Oliver's ears, when both men help her sit up (- so loudly, that he clamps his ear after they are done.) She hyperventilates, once they have her seated, allowing her nerves to settle a bit.

When she looks down at herself, she realizes she was not as naked as she thought. The blanket has fallen to her waist, revealing the black unflattering sports bra. When Diggle pulls the blanket aside she realizes that her glamorous (not!) colourful Rubik's cube studded multicolored boyshorts are on display to the two most important men in her life. 

Diggle shakes his head at her with a goofy smirk, when she blushes. Oliver shows no expression. Felicity is well past the point of modesty now. Oliver officially knows that she is small-breasted and wears unsexy boyshorts - and obviously he doesn't care.

(Because she's not his type, Felicity thinks, feeling annoyed.)

His eyes are scanning her with a pained, concerned expression (- and only a fool like her would wish that he looked at her with some amount of lust while she's battered and bruised from a near-death experience).

"God! Felicity - you're such a mess." He says quietly, as he tugs her limbs to the side of table. Felicity sucks in a deep breath as pain burst in spasms all over her  ( and because Oliver's otherwise warm palm feels so cool against her thigh - and she always imagined him touching her bare thigh with his palm for different reasons).

And if that wasn't bad enough, Oliver stands to face her directly, standing with his legs braced apart so that her legs are between his. He catches her good arm, and forces her to keep a hand on his shoulder, then he slips his arm under it simultaneously wrapping his other arm around her waist, whilst carefully avoiding to touch her injured arm.

Felicity can't help the small gasp that she lets out at feel of his calloused hands coming in contact with her skin. She's in his embrace - of sorts. The position is so intimate that despite to smarting pain that's inflaming her body - she blushes, furiously.

He doesn't seem to care though. His expression is as though his face is set in flint. His eyes hold hers as he tightens the grip around the waist. "Felicity," He says.

"Huh?" She responds dumbly, aware of her half-nudity but wondering if he ever feels the same flutter in his chest, that she feels every time they are in such compromising positions. Underneath her bra, she feels her nipples stiffen and she's grateful that she wore her let's-do-some-serious-crime lingerie, else he'd have noticed.

"This is going to hurt." He says, nodding at her firmly.

Felicity cries out as her body violently protests in roaring pain when he swiftly pulls her off the table to a standing position.

 

***

 

Felicity looked out of the window watching streets go by.  "Who else knows this?" She asked, tapping the file.

"Just me -" Ezra said. "And it will stay that way, I promise. I lose power over the information when it becomes - common knowledge."

"How considerate of you." She said, acerbically. "How did Mom know - to find you?" She said, looking at him.

"Your mother can be quite resourceful..." He said, with a small smile. "When she wants to be."

"I can't believe she didn't tell me." Felicity muttered, looking back at the window.

"Well - she knew for a while that I had the money. She never approached me before or after that...so I guess she stepped out of her comfort zone for you."

"Did you ever love us?" Felicity said, looking at him, feeling tears well up in her eyes.

Ezra opened his mouth and then closed it again. He dropped his head down, squeezed the bridge of his nose and then said, "Your mother - and I - it's complicated. But you - yes I loved you."

"Hmph." She snorted. "Blackmail does speak volumes of fatherly love."

He gave her a sharp look, but said nothing. He handed her a flash drive, which she took wordlessly.  "This has information on SF Inc. that you need to know. I've also documented information on the people who cheated me - the rest I'll discuss with you later."

She nodded, looking out the window.

"There'll be a lot of travelling." He said.

She nodded again.

"You'll have to quit Queen Consolidated."

She turned to him with a blank expression.

"I need your attention on this, a hundred percent." He said. "You'll also have to - give up your _other_ hobbies."

She gave him a nasty look in response.

 "I don't suppose I have to tell you," He warned. "That if you breathe a word of this to your friends - I'll release pretty much everything I've collected in that dossier." He added after a pregnant pause, "and more."

(He was dying a man with nothing to lose at this point. Felicity couldn't possibly challenge him on anything until she did some snooping of her own.) The car pulled into her street and came to a stop in front of her house. 

"I'll need some time." She sighed. "To wrap up some things."

"You have five days. I'll be in touch - to help."

"Ten days." She said. "And I don't need your help."

"I need to ensure your commitment, Felicity."

"My commitment," she bit out. "Is not voluntary - you know that."

"At this point..." Ezra tapped on the file that he'd taken back from her - a symbolic gesture of tapping on Oliver, his work, his identity and indirectly - his safety. "It bloody well better be. Five days."

"Ten." She stressed, not bothering to argue further.

She opened the car door and exited without as much as a word after that.

Her door was closed but unlocked. She hadn't even remembered to take her keys when she'd sauntered into Ezra's car. She went inside and leaned on the back of her closed front door and sank to the floor, hugging herself.

It had all been so - surreal.

She should have been crying, but she only felt numb. Her mind raced with possibilities, one after the other. She thought of ways to avoid Ezra, she thought of ways to get him into trouble so he couldn't go forward with his plans, maybe she would tell Oliver the truth and he'd put the fear of death in him.

There had to be a way out of this - somewhere, somehow.

(But there was a cold, desperate thought hidden in the back of her mind, lurking in the shadow of all her escape plans -

\- She may not have known Ezra for the major part of her life, but he _was_ her father and she knew it in her gut.)

He was going to get his way.

She was trapped.

***

The way her body throbs, Felicity is sure she's going to break. She can't take it, her knees wobble and her legs sag; she's going to fall.

But she doesn't.

He's there, holding her up. His body is like a wall. Rock hard muscles, steady stance and immovable. She digs her fingers into his shoulder muscles with her good hand - hard. She's positively certain that her finger nails are sinking into his skin - the way she grips. But he doesn't even as much as flinch.

Her body is sore, enough, and his tight hold on her waist only worsens it. It's necessary, she knows, because his arms are all that are holding her limp body up. Felicity squeezes her eyes shut, drops her head on Oliver's chest. Her gasps and groans are the only sound in her ears apart from Oliver's voice. He's whispering continuously to her. In the blinding torments of her body - she can't hear the words, but his voice is soothing, gentle and give her the strength she needs to focus.

When her eyes open, Oliver's stepped away from her and she's sitting on a chair ­- her chair. She tilts her chin upwards and Diggle is there, is holding the back of the chair. Oliver takes the blanket and wraps it around her. She realizes that Diggle had wheeled the chair behind her while Oliver had held her up, just in time for them to let her sink into it.

Both men wheel her to her computers.

Tears slips down her cheeks as she places her good hand on the table. She's overwhelmed with pain, gratitude and nostalgia simultaneously. Oliver on one side, pushes her hair back away from her face while Diggle on the other checks her bandaged shoulder. Then he squats down - and it's only at that moment that Felicity realizes there's an IV in her leg.

She watches amazed at Diggle pushes some medicine into it through a syringe. He looks up at her and gives a small laugh.

"Best veins, I could find under the circumstances." He says, jovially. "Oliver wouldn't let go of your good arm."

"Really?" She says.

"He's joking." Oliver says, with a little annoyance in his tone. "This arm's bruised pretty badly, too."

Felicity agrees as she sees the red, black and blue all over her good arm. It's starting to throb as well. Without intimation, Oliver interlaces his fingers with hers, kneeling down to place his other hand on her shoulder.

"Brace yourself." Diggle says. Felicity doesn't realize it first, but a nasty fire shoots up on her injured arm, worse than the background ache she'd been dealing with.  Inadvertently her eyes squeeze shut, her fist closes on Oliver's large, strong hand, and she's aware - _acutely_ aware of Diggle slowly, tormentingly, lifting up her injured arm to place it on the table.

"I've given you something for the pain." Diggle says, softly, when he's done. "Figured you won't be happy with only one hand to type." 

Felicity can't think. There are blinding flashing lights in her vision and they're not from the computer screen. She gasps and slumps against Oliver. She can feel Diggle stroking her head now and the three of them wait for the worst to abate.

 

***

 

"I don't understand." Oliver said to her. "You weren't well enough to come in to work, but you're okay enough to hack?"

She had just handed him information on the ring leader with a potential game plan to take him down (because she was awesome like that!).

"Well, saving the city can't be stalled just because Felicity Smoak ate bad fish." She said, brushing off his concern. "Go - save lives, whatever."

(She had called him the first thing after she had gathered her wits, once Ezra had left. She told him that she had a stomach bug and he'd been super considerate and everything, told her it was okay not to come into QC that day.

She showered, changed and headed straight to the Arrow Cave. Since Oliver was off being CEO (and probably making sexy talk with Isabel, _gross!_ ), seeing as Diggle would be hovering in and around QC, she would have the Foundry - all to herself.

Felicity was pumped up on so much adrenaline, hate and determination to get herself out of the Ezra David-sized rock she'd gotten stuck under that she did two things at once.

She managed to locate the ring-leader that they were tracking, fast enough. (That was the easy thing. She'd wanted _that_ out of the way so she could work on her other thing. The tougher one, the more urgent one - was to find Ezra's weakness. Anything that could give her leverage to refuse his 'job' if one could call it that.)

Her fingers worked the keyboard furiously as she tried to hack into SF Inc's servers, into Ezra's phones, into his financials, into his partners' accounts and even subsidiaries. It was tough - but she was Felicity Smoak and - there were very few firewalls she could not tear down.

Sara came by to work out, but Felicity ignored her, except for hellos and goodbyes. She offered Felicity lunch, which she turned down. Diggle came by as well and Felicity ignored him. He offered her Big Belly Burger, which she turned down.

Oliver tried to call her and text her, but she ignored the phones. (Oliver had called Diggle apparently, when Felicity was ignoring her phone. "Felicity's here, man," She barely overheard Diggle say. "Don't worry. Nah - she looks okay. She's working. She's at it with some sort of heat, though."

"She must be ill." Felicity had overheard Sara say to Oliver, later, when he came by. "She actually said no to food!")

Team Arrow went out brought the bad guy in. Felicity multitasked. She manned her electronic helm and guided them - all the while trying to extract information on her own private hate-mission.

No one thought to question what she was up to. She felt a twinge of guilt at betraying their trust but she got over it when she realized no one generally cared what Felicity did in the background. Because well, she was Felicity, and least likely to pull any criminal activities behind their backs.

 _"I guess, we're done for the night."_ She heard Oliver say on the comm, after him and Sara giftwrapped  (proverbially - of course) the ring-leader and handed him over to SCPD.

"Cool." She said.

 _"Cool?"_   Oliver echoed.

"Yeah - good work." She mumbled over her comm while she scanned through the Defence contracts SF Inc. had with the military. 

 _"You're pretty quiet, you know."_ He said. _"You've been like this all night. It's almost as though you're not there."_

"Huh?" She said, distractedly.

 _"Are you sure, you're okay?"_ Oliver said.

 _"He's right Felicity, you're not yourself."_ Diggle chimed in from his comm.

"Well - yeah I'm sick." She mumbled, her eyes scanning Ezra's accounts. "I mean, I'm okay -I'm just a bit low."

 

( Nothing. There was absolutely nothing she could use to counter blackmail Ezra. 

Felicity swore rather explicitly in her mind, careful to not let Oliver or Diggle hear.

The only thing remaining for her was to try _after_ physically infiltrating his organization - it meant she'd _have_ to work for him. She would _have_ to go through with this.

She was livid and legitimately wanted to break something.)

 

She was sitting in her chair, with folded arms and a foul mood when the team returned. She didn't even bother congratulating or greeting them with her usual cheeriness.

They noticed.

(She was seething within - and at that point, she couldn't care how it was perceived. Fortunately, they all attributed it to her fake ill-health.)

"Felicity, you need to go home." Sara said.

"Yep." She said, absentmindedly.

(Oliver looked very concerned - Felicity noticed -  and at another time her heart would flutter for joy - but right then - she just wanted to murder her father.)

"Sara's right." Oliver said. "Come on, let me drop you home. Take the day off tomorrow - bad guys can wait a day."

"Yeah, it's kinda weird when Oliver's the one providing the comic relief." Diggle quipped.

"I dunno what you're complaining about." Felicity huffed and said, nonchalantly. "I thought you guys would like having a little peace and quiet every now and then."

She noticed that Oliver and Diggle exchanged confused looks.

"Well," Oliver said, in a teasing voice. "I guess, I've gotten used to having you inside of me."

She could see he was hoping for some reaction from her. Diggle and Sara might have groaned too. But. Felicity was just too wrapped up inside her own head to react to the pun - or get the link to a shared memory - or to smile.

But Diggle was right though. It _was_ super weird when Oliver was the one providing the comic relief.

 

***

 

She can wiggle her fingers, just enough to type. Her tears had dried up on her cheeks and Felicity sniffled the unshed ones away. She types slowly, wincing every now and then but starts the connection to the secure network she had set-up, while Oliver and Diggle hover.

"Who is Ezra David?" Oliver says, essentially starting the conversation she doesn't want to have.

"What?" She says, glancing at him between codes. "Who told you about him?"

"You did." Oliver says. "You sent me that feed -  the one camera at the bank - during the heist." Oliver says. "You looked directly into that camera and spoke, Felicity. You said: Ezra David."

Oh right. That was part of her original secret plan which went to hell.

"He's my father." She says, plainly.

Oliver's eyebrows knit together, he gives her a confused expression and his lips pout pensively. (It's kinda cute and she had missed seeing that look.) Diggle frowns too.

"Biologically - I mean." She says, rolling her eyes. "Apparently, he's my current  employer."

"And he's the one you're contacting?" Diggle says hesitantly.

She finds the I.P. address she needs and pings the computer. "No - I'm actually trying to get Sam's attention." She says and mutters under breath. "If the douche isn't still drooling all over his pillow."

"And who's Sam?" Oliver says.

Felicity blinks and looks up at Oliver. Diggle's got an expectant expression too. She takes in a deep breath, closing her eyes when that action sends shooting pain up her spine and exhales it slowly - though, the pain does not seem to be going anywhere. She opens her eyes and winces with every pulse of pain. She also thinks about the words, before she says them.

"He's - well - I guess - he's my brother."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--->  
> Are you bored yet? TBC.


	6. Samuel

Felicity was poor. Travelling in style wasn't her thing.

(- though she did have a rather impeccable sense of couture, thank you Donna Smoak!)

The first time she'd flown in an airplane, she prayed that a giant metal engine, heavier than air being propelled through the stratosphere by _fuel - combustible_ fuel would land safely. And she wasn't _a_ religious person.

The first time she'd been in a luxury car was in Oliver's limousine  (well the company limo, if one is being specific) - when he'd given her a ride home after Walter had been found. She'd been waiting outside the hospital for a cab, pissed off at her van for its rather fashionable 'sputter, cough  and die' moment in the hospital's parking lot. He'd come out of the exit with his mother and sister and next thing she knew she was shifting awkwardly in the seat of an expensive car which had a mini-bar (seriously, what car has a mini-bar?). It would be reasonable to expect that there was a lot of inappropriate sentence fragments that had come out of Felicity's mouth. Oliver's mother kept looking at her incredulously, Thea kept sniggering throughout and Oliver just looked at her with the amused smile/not smile face. It was like an uncomfortable meet-the-parents situation where your significant other was also a stranger. Suffice to say, Felicity was relieved to get out of that vehicle. _Relieved._

The first time she'd been in a helicopter was after she became Oliver's 'executive assistant'  at QC and she'd been so thrilled with the experience she nearly punched Diggle's nose while pointing at the Starling Tower screaming: "It looks like a cockroach from up here!".

The first time she'd been in a private jet was when they'd flown to Russia to rescue Lyla. She'd been rather excited about the whole thing and up until the airport, she was totally channelling her inner Bond girl. Until Isabel Rochev showed up - and then Felicity just spent the whole trip trying to ignore Isabel's wicked glares and crooked smirks.

(Boats, ships, heck even dinghies - general seafaring vehicles, weren't Oliver's favourite mode of transportation, for obvious reasons.) Felicity had never been on a boat. She'd never even been on a public ferry, for that matter.

So it would be reasonable to expect that the first time she'd travelled in a _monster-sized_ private watercraft - she would never have thought that it would be her own. (Technically it belonged to her father, but - _details. Yep!_ )

"Whose boat is that?" she said, mouth hanging open at the sight of a _massive_ yacht.

"Yours." Big Joe said to her as he escorted her down the harbour deck.  

"I own a boat?" She said, blinking stupidly.

"Superyacht, is the appropriate term, I think." Came a new voice. Felicity squinted up against the sun and spotted a handsome young man, leaning on the railings of a gangway.

He was average height and of slight build; he wore clothes that looked like one of those rich-kid casuals and a goofy smile. His wayfarers were a little lopsided and his floppy brown hair looked unkempt.

(Felicity gasped softly when she saw him.

She was looking at her father.

The younger, healthier version of him - the image of him she had reconstructed in her mind from memories and old photographs.

If she hadn't already seen Ezra, Felicity would have thought someone had taken her back in time to when she was six, and this would be some sort of karmic recompense for the years she'd longed to see him. )

"Miss David?" Big Joe said, gesturing for them to walk up the gangway. He gave a very curt nod to the young man.

Felicity was positive that she was still gawping, as she followed Big Joe, staring at the 'young Daddy' that she remembered. She halted when she came face to face with him, aware of Joe dragging her suitcases on upwards to the deck; she clutched her purse, nervously.

"Hi." The young  man said, taking off his wayfarers. His sleepy eyes were a different colour than her Dad's.  He extended his hand towards her. "I'm Samuel."

She adjusted her grip on her purse, to free a hand which robotically met his. It was a firm handshake, but his hands were soft.  He gave her a cold smirk and then put his wayfarers back on. He ran his hand through his hair and then sighed. "So you're Neo."

"What?" She blurted.

"As in The Matrix -y'know, Neo - the One." There was sarcasm in his tone. "The One who will rescue from the situation crack we're in." He frowned. "I  thought you'd be a ballbuster. You don't look so badass."

"What?" She said, confused.

"You're more of a Frodo." He said, smirking condescendingly.

He looked at her like she was stupid. "You're Felicity, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"My sister?" He said.

Felicity dropped her purse.

 

***

"You have a brother?"

She glances up at him and sees Oliver's incredulous expression.

"Half-brother." She says, jabbing keys, repeatedly trying to ping Sam's computer. "Well - yeah, he's okay. He can be total douchebag..." She huffs to herself and rolls her eyes. "But - he's okay."

She looks back at Oliver's stunned face ( so adorable, B-T-W!).

"Yeah...!" She says, comically. "I totally had that look when I found out, too."

 

***

 

"I have a _brother_?"  She was shrieking. (Like veritably stark raving batshit crazy shrieking.)

Felicity couldn't recall what she might have said to Samuel. She couldn't even recall how she made it into Ezra's cabin. All she remembered was the sound of her heels stomping up the gangway. She had absolutely no idea where she was going but she followed in the general direction of where Big Joe went.

Ezra had been in the lounge, waiting for her, thank goodness. It wouldn't look as emphatic if she just went round in circles all over the 'superyacht' fuming while she sought her father out.

"Felicity." Ezra sighed, once she was done repeatedly shrieking. "I'm sorry. Yes, you do. but you have to understand that..."

"I have...a brother and..." She growled. "You didn't think to tell me?"

"I felt it would be a bit much." He said. He looked tense.

"Technically," She heard Samuel come up from behind her. "You also have three step sisters."

"What?" She hissed, whirling around.

"Well, two step-sisters and one step-brother." Samuel joked. "But I'm pretty sure Brian's the woman in his marriage."

Felicity stared at him - with her angry face on. She stared at Samuel right until he looked sheepish. "That is offensive." She said to him, coldly and then turned to face Ezra.

She lifted her eyebrows expectantly.

"Did you think I'd have stayed unattached?" Ezra said, pointedly. "Part of the reson, I left because..."

"Because you were screwing his mother." She spat. "I know - Mom told me."

(The last two weeks had been like an out-of-body experience for her. Having to lie to the team about the minor emergency at first, the hurried trip to Vegas for the week-end long screamfest with her mother and the week after that of decisively having to leave, winding up her job, giving her apartment up, giving up her secret life, and all true purpose of her being and...

...the painful goodbyes.

Felicity's daily resolve to 'keep it happy' had been chucked to the trash-icon inside her brain. She was generally pissed off. At herself, at her luck, at her fate, at her Mom - and yeah, definitely her father.

Sara and Dig had been super helpful. She'd coached Sara on complicated programs, that would cover Team Arrow for at least six months (which was what she hoped would be _maximum_ the duration of her absence, if she could help it).

Diggle & Lyla came by the help her pack, though they weren't aware that she sending off most of her stuff to storage. All she could take with her was her tech and basic clothing. Ezra had skyped her two nights prior telling to her in no uncertain terms that she was to forget her old life and to take only what she absolutely needed. She wouldn't even need her old clothes or her savings.

Oliver had been stoic and withdrawn after she told him. He kept a strict distance from her emotionally and physically. He was always looking at her with this unreadable expression in his face. After she told him she had to leave, he wouldn't discuss anything with her the entire week that was related to her future absence. More than once, she broached the topic of her replacement and he brushed it off, saying they would manage.  Anytime she started cracking jokes, or tried to make light of the conversation, he'd simply move away as though he couldn't bear to be around her anymore.

It bothered her. But only a little, given the weight of what she had going on. Up until the very last minute she kept trying to get some dirt on Ezra that she could use to her advantage. She'd used every remote access tool and algorithm she could come up with.

She failed.

Maybe Oliver felt betrayed, she reasoned. Maybe it was better he hated her, she reckoned. It would be easier on him in case she actually fell into trouble. (Felicity may not have known what she was getting into, but she knew her father well enough to know that it was going to be unethical.)

And she'd made her peace with Oliver's curt goodbye, the day before, along with his formal assurance of being available if she needed any help.

Until he turned up on her doorstep that morning.

Felicity was rendered speechless when she saw him.

"I'll drop you off." He said, plainly. "At least -" He said quickly, cutting her off when she started to protest. "At least, let me drop you - _somewhere_."

She was supposed to go the harbour. Big Joe was supposed to pick her up in the fancy-shmancy Jaguar and escort her.

But Oliver, wasn't supposed to know that. Oliver wasn't supposed to know anything.

That helpless, pleading look was the first emotion she'd seen on his face the whole week. And. She couldn't resist. She excused herself to call Big Joe and told him to pick her up at the airport lounge, in her super-calm and cool voice, leaving no scope for argument.

The space between her and Oliver in the car was filled with a heavy silence. She kept glancing at his face, trying the memorize the lines and features, etching them into memory. Every now and then he'd glance back at her, meeting her eyes.

He was distressed - and he was allowing her to see it.

He helped her find a trolley and helped place her larger suitcases on it. Before he left, he caught her hand and squeezed it; and Felicity was so overwhelmed with emotion.

This wasn't about love (well, it was love on her part but with him -), it was about friendship. A lasting, valuable friendship that could never be replaced. The one true relationship in her life.

"Felicity..." He said, his voice all raspy and strained. He de-gloved his hand and lifted it to cup her face, his calloused thumb brushing away that one traitorous tear that slipped from her eyes.

"Oliver." She whispered.

The weight of the unsaid hung over them. His head tipped closer - and she automatically leaned in.

But she was mistaken. He obviously didn't mean to kiss her.

He just bent to pick up the smaller airbag and handed it to her. He gave her longing look accompanied with a sad sigh.

And that was that. He left.   

And she was standing at the airport drop-off zone, staring after his car, very much like she'd stood at on the porch watching her father's taillights, so many years ago.

Except it was her leaving this time,)

"Yo!" Samuel interjected, rudely bringing her to the present. Felicity shook her off her thoughts, remembering she was supposed to look angry.

"That's my mother you're talking about." He said. (She should have apologized, but she noticed that Samuel didn't seem to take as much offense as he should have.)

Felicity might as well have glared a hole into her father's face, the way she looked at him.

"Felicity." Ezra said, "Sit down please."

She complied (- because what else could she do, really? She couldn't walk out of this. And whatever new low Ezra would achieve, it couldn't really take her by surprise, now could it? The man wasn't above blackmailing is own daughter).

"Samuel's mother is Sylvia..."

"Ashton." Felicity completed. "The one time Shipping Heiress." At the surprised look Ezra gave her, Felicity sighed and said, "I did _some_ homework on you. I thought she had three children from her marriage to that English guy."

"Brian, Brittany and Barbara." Ezra said, nodding.

"I didn't know she had any with you." Felicity said, looking at Samuel.

Samuel gave her a sardonic grin as he came around and said on the couch opposite her.

"So," Felicity piped up, feeling snarky. "Did you just marry her for the money or was she like your  long lost soulmate or something?"

Ezra gave her a sharp look and said. "She was virtually broke when I married her. Her father's company was already in trouble, her first husband had gambled off most of her liquidity. She only had limited funds. But they were enough - for me to pump money into a small start-up. By the time Samuel was four, I was able to buy back some of her facilities."

"Long lost soulmate, then." Felicity remarked acerbically. "Why is there no digital connection between her business and you?" She said.

"I was a ghost investor. At the time - I was involved in...something. I didn't need any extra heat on me."

"And 'something' in your dictionary is code for: illicit projects?" She said, grimacing.

Ezra motioned to another guy that Joe had previously introduced to her as Bondi.(Bondi was as large as Big Joe - but much more handsome. There were tattoos up and down his beefy arms and he had a red beard which made him look like a cross between Santa Clause and Gimli, the dwarf from Lord of the Rings.) He brought forth a large contraption with familiar tubings. She correctly deduced it to be a larger oxygen source than the one she'd seen Ezra using in the car. While Ezra connected the mask to his face, she looked at Samuel.

Samuel was looking at her warily. He kept giving her snarky smiles, but she could see that his sarcasm was just a cover for his distrust and obvious displeasure.

"Don't worry." She muttered. "I'm not here to steal your inheritance or anything."

"The way I see it," He said, giving her that annoying taunting smirk. "You're here to recover it."

"So," She said, looking at Ezra, seeing that he was breathing easier. "Is that what I am really here for? To recover _his_ inheritance."

"It belongs to both you." Ezra said. "I'm sorry. I had wanted to tell you Felicity, it was too much to-"

"It's fine." She said, brushing her hand symbolically. "As far as I'm concerned, he can have it, I'm just here to provide technical support on your 'somethings'."

"And have SF Incorpo -" Ezra started to say.

"Ezra," Felicity said, emphatically. "Don't pretend you ever had me in mind when you started your precious venture. You left me - and Mom, but you _left_. I haven't forgotten that. You may have generously provided for my college tuition, and I'm sure that was where your inheritance as far, as I'm concerned, ended. So I'm not a fool. And let's be clear, as long as you need me, I'll be here. But after you're gone, I'm not gonna stick around to carry your _legacy_ on my shoulders. The fact that you've _spawned_ another -" She pointed to Samuel. "Just makes me feel better about it. "

Ezra looked up in a very poetic manner and then sighed. "S -F Incorporated." He said.

"What?"

"As in - Samuel & Felicity."

She gave an indignant gasp and exclaimed, "Are you kidding me with that?"

 

***

 

 _"The_ SF Incorporated." Diggle echoes.  

"It's not bigger than QC - it's just different. QC's what one calls a legacy business, y'know. Oliver's rich, Oliver's Dad was rich, his Dad before him - and so on...the money stays in the family. SF Inc.'s more of a..."

"SF Inc. is actually owned by your father." Diggle says, ignoring her ramble.

"Yep. But no one really knows him. He likes it that way." She says.

"Why?" Diggle asks.

Felicity shrugs. "My father has a criminal record."

"That explains your thing for thrill-seeking." Diggle comments. "What exactly was he involved in?"

"Before - well before SF Inc. and before the Internet was what it was today - my Dad was one of the early generation crackers. When he was...." She sighs. "When he was around, when I was little - he was working in sales in this mid-level computer parts company. It used to be called Modern Computing. It was later bought over by this supplies Company. I can't tell you the name, it's super secret - but it's an awesome company - okay may I can tell you -."

"Felicity." Oliver drawls (like he always did, to draw her back from her rambling.)

"Anyway, the point is." She says, trying not to smile. "He embezzled money by manipulating their electronic database."

"Wow." Diggle remarks.

"He's pulled a lot of tricks like that - before. Yeah, he took off before they ever caught him." She says. "They could never pin it on him, but there used to be an outstanding warrant in his name up until a few years ago until the..."

"The statute of limitations had expired." Oliver says, nodding, looking at the computer screen to the side of hers.

(As one of her many backup plans, Felicity had documented intel on Ezra, in case she needed to involve Oliver in this entire madness. She was downloading those files from a cloud server, simultaneously while she was trying to ping Sam.)  

"So, he takes off, marries Sylvia Ashton." Oliver says, looking through the files that are ready to view. "About a few years later, she was able to buy back ten percent of Ashton Industries...and...around the same time SF Solutions started making entry into the software market. They remained in computer software until it got publicly listed. Which was soon enough, but the majority stakeholder stayed anonymous."

"A.k.a. Ezra David." She adds.  "Hmm...anonymous." She remarks when an idea hits her, soon after.

"What?"

She doesn't answer. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she lets her fingers fly over the keyboard.

 

***

Felicity stared up at the night sky, listening to the quiet chopping sound of the yacht slicing through the waters. Tears streamed down from her face. Had she been in Starling, she'd have been in the Arrow Cave. Right then, Oliver and Diggle and maybe Sara too would be out  zipping along the streets, catching bad guys and she'd be manning the comms. She'd be playing with the traffic lights - giving directions to Oliver and Diggle. She'd be using the satellite feeds to track their opponents.

She'd be doing something worthwhile.

Not being a glorified criminal.

"There were five people I'd entrusted the running of my company to." Ezra had told her, over dinner. "Over the years, I'd helped them in some way or the other. They expressed interest in investing in SF Solutions. Once software solutions took off I had a lot of money. So I began to divert my interest elsewhere. Nanorobotics caught my interest - so I started corresponding with this professor in Salzburg. He was working on something. His nanorobots were equipped with thermal, electronic and biological scanners. We collaborated, and I developed a prototype AI interface. An algorithm - that allowed reconstruction of an area of interest. The potential was huge. Prompt reconstructions of a crime scene - seismic and environmental analysis of a potential building site or debris after an earthquake..."

(The kind of work Felicity would have been thrilled to be a part of. If she'd been a part of Ezra's life.)

"Reconnaissance prior to and after military strikes." Felicity added.

Ezra froze for an instant before he said, "Among other potential uses. Professor Petersen was explicit that his nanorobots cannot be used for weaponization. I approached a private military contractor  - Etienne de Sud, was the middle man."

"Who currently holds a fifteen percent stake in SF Inc." Felicity said, flipping through the file that he had given her on de Sud. "So what happened?"

"Etienne did not share my respect for Petersen's wishes."

"He double crossed you." Felicty said, giving Ezra an unfeeling smile. "Pretty smart move, approaching a military contractor." She said, caustically. "When you don't want to weaponize something."

"Military contractors also need non-ordnance technology. The ulterior goal was to push it for civilian applications. When I realized that de Sud was ready to give them the codes to sell it to the military, I placed failsafes in the software. They would prevent it from being accessed from the most commonly used programs for military used at the time."

Felicity said. "But military programs evolved?"

Ezra gave her an appreciative smile and a nod. "Etienne stole it." Ezra said. "At the time he had only ten percent of stake - he took over twenty percent through a shell corporation and acquired two of my research facilities. From right out under my nose. One among these was where I'd set up a private lab for Petersen. Etienne shut it down."

"And took off," Felicity said, nodding. "With your AI interface."

"Which was useless to him - which is why the contractor did not convert the sale at the time. The nanorobots and the interface work hand in hand. One cannot work without the other as they are. Etienne was able to derive on the nanorobot's tecnology to make larger drones, but not use the nanorobots as they were. They could only be controlled by _my_ interface."

"And when you confronted him, I'm guessing you two didn't hug it out." She mumbled.

"He sold five percent of his new stake to the same contractor." Ezra sighed. "I wasn't worried up until three years ago until I heard that a particular company developed software which can access the root algorithms of my interface."

"And Etienne's private contractor's back in the game...wanting to buy the interface as well." Felicity said.

"I couldn't claim intellectual rights." Ezra said, looking defeated. "It was in a nascent stage, and it was purely about the research, so I'd left the rights with Petersen. Petersen died from a heart attack the next week after Etienne took over."

"Was it a natural death?"

"The coroner's report says so." Ezra said, looking unconvinced.

"So what do you want from me?"

"I need you to remote hack into the AI and shut it down. And find a way to get the prototype nanorobots back. I've tried, my best software engineers have tried. There's no way to do it."

"How do you know they haven't already manipulated your codes?"

"Because, I wouldn't be alive if they'd succeeded. Etienne isn't above murder to cover his ass."

"Oh."

Ezra handed her a small notebook. "I used to make notes by hand, whenever I was working on something. Old habit. This is my diary from when I was developing basic structure of the program. Maybe it will help. The actual code is a disc. I've arranged for it to be sent to your room."

"So what happens if we win?"

"I'll redevelop it and sell it."

Felicity realized that she would be stealing from one thief to help another. Golly.

"Because that makes things so much better." Felicity rolled her eyes.

"It's business." Ezra said, coolly.

 

Felicity sighed loudly as she opened the diary, feeling the cool ocean air hit her face. Her father's scrawny handwriting greeted her. She felt an ache within her heart that she couldn't bear. It reminded her of the floppy disc he'd left behind when he'd walked out on them with: 'Modern Computing Ltd. Bills Backup" written on the label. She sniffled her tears and looked up, feeling her lip quiver.

Every night, ever since Oliver had ended up in the backseat of her van, bleeding out, she would see him every night (except when he ran off to Lian Yu - but that time period didn't count in her mind.) She looked out at the open ocean and recalled how apprehensive he was about oceans, and storms. If this boat capsized, she wondered, if she ended up on an island - _without WiFi_. She'd probably be dead within a week.

"Are you crying?" An amused voice broke into her thoughts.

"What?" She whirled around, wiping away her tears. Samuel stood there with a lopsided smile. "No." She said quickly.

"What - d'you leave a boyfriend back there?"

"No." She said (wondering why she felt like she was lying. She didn't have a boyfriend. Oliver didn't count).

"Hah!" He peered at her face. "You are crying."

"No, I'm not. Shut up." She retorted.

"Wow."

"Okay - you need to go away." She said, waving her hand. "Look, I don't know what Ezra told you about me but..."

"Nothing actually." Samuel said, sounding angry. "Up until a month ago, I didn't even know you existed."

"Well, I didn't know you existed till...um I dunno - today." She said. "So karma's a bitch, huh."

"How do we know you can do the thing he says you can do?" Samuel said, warily.

"I don't know what he _thinks_ I can do. But here's the thing - I'm not really here of my own free will."

"Why?" Samuel interrupted her. "What does he have on you?"

She ignored him. "And I really don't care," she said, "about how much money you people own."

"Like I'd believe that."

"Well, you don't know me very well - so I guess for now you'll have to just take me at my word. I told you - I'm not here to steal your inheritance."

"Yeah - there's not much left to steal." Samuel said, sardonically. "The three 'B's took care of that."

"Three 'B's?"

"Brian, Barbie and Brit." Samuel sighed. "Mom liked alliterating names. I was supposed to be called Bruce."

That information rattled her. This was her brother. He would have been called Bruce. If she'd been around when he was born, would she have gotten to add to the list of names for him? She spent her entire childhood isolated, filling the void talking to nothing - wishing there was a brother. She'd have given an arm and a leg to have a sibling. The one she had, as it turns out, was as much a jerk as her father is.

Life must really hate her that much, she thought. Tears welled up in her eyes again, as she looked at Samuel. The splitting image of her father. If they'd known about each other, would they have gotten along? She knew for a fact that she would look out for him. Just like Oliver looked out for Thea.

The sudden image of Oliver's protective big-brother face came to Felicity's mind. She sobbed and looked back at the ocean.

"What?" Samuel said.

"Go away, Samuel." She snapped.

"Why are you such a crybaby?" He said, sounding irritated.

"Why are you so annoying?" She returned.

"Because I am." He said.

"Well, then I guess I'm a crybaby." She whined back.

He was silent for a bit and then came closer. Felicity looked at him and was surprised to see emotion on his face.

"What does it matter, to you?" She said. "You don't know me well enough - but if you did know me, you would have known that I waited my entire life for Dad to come back. I would spend  hours imagining him and Mom would get back together and I'd have a baby brother - or a sister. I waited and waited and he never came back. And now that he is back - it's just to use me."

Samuel sighed and looked towards the ocean. He cleared his throat and then spoke. "Yeah, Ezra's a dick like that."

"That's your Dad, you're talking about." She said.

"Yeah, well - newsflash. He's not been much of a Dad to me either." Samuel said, in a very derogatory tone.

Felicity sniffled and looked at Samuel. He looked sad.

"Look," Samuel said, after a while. "I'm sorry, I just - I've never had a sister before. When he first told me about you - I thought the real reason he was so distant from me all my life was because he loved you more."

"He left when I was six!" She exclaimed.

"I know that now!" He said back, loudly. "I'm sorry!"

She huffed and looked at him for a long time. For the first time she saw loss on his face - and longing. "Where's your Mom?" She finally said.

"She's dead. Hunting accident." Samuel said, without an sorrow. "She was another prized specimen of parenting. Spent half her time shopping and the other half throwing parties. She hated being without money."

"Yeah, I know what that's like." She said, feeling sorry for Samuel. When Samuel turned to look at her, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. "I mean the uh - Mom not being around part. My Mom was -" Felicity rolled her eyes. "- well she's my mother."

Samuel nodded as though he understood.

"But, I guess she tried." Felicity sighed.

"Well, my Mom didn't." Samuel said, acerbically.

"What about your brother and sisters?" She asked.

"They were worse." He only said.

Felicity didn't push for any more. She placed a hand on his arm and rubbed it encouragingly, they way she saw Oliver do the same with Thea.

"I dunno what big sisters are supposed to say." She blurted out loud (and promptly regretted it).

"Yeah well," Samuel gave her the first genuine smile she'd seen on him since she'd met him. "I dunno what little brothers are supposed to say, either."

 

***

 

"What are you doing?" Oliver says. "Don't strain your arm like that."

"I am hacking into Sam's computer." She mumbles, essentially voicing her thoughts "I shall use an anonymous IP to do it - thank you for the idea, Mr. Queen. And...Aha!" She exclaims. "I have access to his webcam."

A window pops up with a video feed.

"And...what does that do exactly?" Oliver asks.

"I'll be able to get his attention."

Felicity gets access to the pan function on Sam's computer and pans the camera, while trying to access the audio.

"And we have audio..." She thinks out loud.

A distinct sound of rhythmic groaning and gasping greet them, coupled with a girl's moans.

"What's that...?" Felicity frowns.

Oliver and Diggle exchange looks. Oliver starts to cough uncomfortably.

 _"Oh yes! Oh that feels so good!"_ A whiny voice comes through.

"Eww." Felicity groans in disgust and makes a face. She hits the muted button and facepalms - literally - with her good hand. Diggle starts to snigger earning a nasty look from her. Oliver chuckles and gently squeezes her good shoulder.

"I'm probably dead and my half-brother's busy getting lucky." She mutters. "Dumbass! Argh!" She growls and unmutes the audio and yells into the mike. "SAMUEL! Stop fucking around and get your ass here!"

There is a clear yelp that she knows is Samuel's wimpy voice, a woman shrieks, and there lot of screaming and scrambling. At some point Felicity hears the thud of something falling. She pans the camera where she thinks the audio is coming from and sees a commotion with the distinct feminine legs running out of view.

"Ugh." She voices out loud. "I gifted him that sidestand. Ew."

 

***

The superyacht had sailed to make a port stop at Coast City. Ezra had three appointments, of which one was a medical one. It was at there, that Felicity had been introduced to a woman whose last name she couldn't pronounce.

"Mr. David has instructed me to assist you with your attire." She said, in a very frou-frou tone.

Samuel wanted to come along. "What was her name again?" She leaned over to whisper at Samuel.

"I just call her Katya." Samuel said. She could see her half-brother shamelessly staring at Katya's ass and understood the reason why he chose to accompany her.

Katya introduced her to an experience that was like a date with a perfect man. (Well, almost like one). Couture business suits, gowns, shoes and accessories were on display for her, while Felicity sipped on champagne. She was ecstatic enough that she could actually try them on, when she realized she could go home with it in the end, Felicity was bouncing with joy enough to forget her state of mind.

Three hours, she salivated over fashion, while Samuel salivated over Katya.

(Win-win, to quote Samuel)

Samuel, whom she thought would never get along with, when she first met him, turned out to be a self-imposed new BFF, in a manner of speaking. He literally hung out with her  - like _all_ the time. (When he wasn't screwing PYTs, that is.)

He amused and intrigued her more than she could have imagined.

He was exactly six years younger than her, which made Felicity calculate that his mother might have been pregnant with him, before Ezra left them. He was stupid about a great many things such as women and his self-perceived tolerance of alcohol (reminding her so much of the pre-island Oliver) -

But. When it came to money, that boy was beyond brilliant.

He was a prodigy like her; he'd skipped two grades and finished college in three years. It didn't take her that long to figure out that his financial acumen was probably what kept Ezra safe money-wise. He was a talker, like her, but a more coherent one - no rambling or thought-voicing or sentence fragmenting, like her.  He was a cheerful, goofy guy and Felicity did not mind him one bit.

Katya had planned her day for her, much to her chagrin, because she'd never had the opportunity to see Coast City before. After her awesome wardrobe revamping, she was expected at the hospital to get her bone marrow tested.

Samuel chose to accompany her.

"What about Katya?" Felicity asked.

"Katya's gonna be your assistant." He said, winking.

"Do I need an assistant?" Felicity said, frowning.

"Yes, you do."

"What am I supposed to do with an assistant?"

"I think I have a few ideas." Samuel said, wistfully. "Also, Ezra's oncologist has this really smokin' hot physician's assistant."

"Of course, he does." She chuckled.

The PA was hot, Felicity couldn't deny - but to her surprise Samuel didn't want to leave her side when they were about to test her bone marrow.

"It hurts like a bitch." He said, coolly. "I'll keep you company."

"Thanks." she said, feeling apprehensive. "I think."

"This doesn't mean I like you or anything, okay." He said, suddenly.

"Aww." She cooed.

"Yeah, stop that."

She hated needles and that nasty bone marrow needle was no exception. It did hurt - a lot more than she expected.  

"So - you got yourself tested, huh?" She huffed, gripping on to Samuel's hand, squeezing her eyes shut when they drilled the needle into her hip. He kept talking to her about something, she was pretty sure he was talking about NASDAQ.

"Yeah." He said. "I'm just a 5% match."

"Doesn't it bother you that he has cancer?" She asked, not really caring for the answer (because she was trying to distract herself).

"It bothers me more that he's suddenly decided he wants to be a father now." He said. "Now he's all about legacy, and handing over what is rightfully ours, yadda yadda."

"Yeah." Felicity said, sighing in relief, when the nurse told her that they were almost done. "Well, I guess, facing your mortality does that you!"

"Y'know Felicity," Samuel said to her, seriously. "We could have met earlier. He's had the cancer for more than three years now. I dunno why he waited for such a narrow window."

Felicity smiled at him sympathetically; and then his words hit her, her eyes flew wide.

_Narrow Window._

"The original interface is an artificial intelligence." She would tell Ezra, later, at the hotel where he was conducting his business. "As soon as it goes online, once it syncs with the nanorobots, it will automatically access the internet as per the protocols you've written. For about eight minutes the system will by paralysed and no one can do a damn thing about it. That's my window to get access."

Ezra was legitimately impressed she could see. Samuel was hanging out in the same room, typing stuff on his laptop. He stuck a thumbs up at her, when Ezra wasn't looking.

"Every time you boot it up, the nanorobots send out a radio signal." She said.

"That's right." Ezra nodded.

"So, to locate them -" She said. "You'll have to watch for the signal. Once we have the frequency, you can track it. That's when it connects to the Internet through whatever wireless access point is there. Without the internet, they can't get it to start primary function for whatever reason."

"It was to connect with the AI.  They were originally programmed like that." Ezra nodded. "So?"

"Yeah so, the initial eight minute window, when it goes online for the first time, can't be bypassed. Once the technology is corrupted by the rooting software, maybe they'll change this function but as of now -" She said smugly. "That's your window."

"And that's when you can hack into it." Ezra said, nodding with appreciation. "Good work."

"There's one problem though." Felicity said. "The nanorobots have a long range but the radio range on the AI is limited. It's faster for me to hack into the AI then try through the nanorobots."

"I agree." Ezra nodded. "You'll have to be within ten meters."  He immediately reached for an intercom phone and spoke in hushed tones, after which, he looked at her directly and emotionlessly.

"Tell Katya to have your bags packed." He said. "First, we're going to meet Bondi's associates and after that you'll be flying out."

"What? Why? Where?"

"Zurich."

" _What_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----->  
> Isn't loud voice Felicity badass in 4x03?  
> TBC.


	7. prelude - I

"I don't need an assistant." Felicity grumbled, eyeing Katya suspiciously.

"You'll need one." Samuel said, holding her elbow, in a rather gentlemanly fashion as they exited the elevator, towards Dr. Gupta's bone marrow lab. Katya followed behind, jabbing her phone.

"Why?" Felicity hissed, looking back at her.

"Ezra plans to make you CTO."

"What?" Felicity as good as sputtered. "How do you know that?"

"Personally," Samuel said, ignoring her question. "I think you're badass. You should totally be CEO."

"Well, that's a quick development from being a Frodo." She murmured, rolling her eyes at him. "What if I don't want to be CEO or CTO or any O?"

"Yeah, have you met Ezra David? He doesn't take no for an answer." Samuel said. Samuel halted them in front of the automatic doors. He gave Katya a meaningful look, which the other woman understood. She stayed out of hearing distance.

"Listen." Samuel said, "You don't have to do this."

"Awesome!" Felicity sighed in relief.

"Not the CTO part, dummy." He said, making an exasperated face. "I mean the whole donor thing. This isn't just a one time donation, you know that right? Did Gupta explain it to you?"

"Yeah - continuous periodic harvesting for three monthly infusions..." Felicity said. "Blah Blah." She screwed up her face, thinking about it. " Ugh! I hate needles." She mumbled under breath.

"I don't get why you're doing this, Frodo." Samuel said.

"Sam..." She caught his shoulders and looked him in his brown eyes. "It just..."

"No one calls me Sam."

"Yay! I shall be the first to nickname you."

"No, you won't."

"Yes, I will - you call me Frodo, I call you Sam." She winked.

Samuel blinked and then when he got the allegory, he grinned wide and drawled "Aah!". She chimed in mimicking him and they just 'aah'ed and giggled in the corridor like a bunch of buffoons. (Katya kept throwing suspicious looks their way.)

"Not know I - " Samuel croaked, imitating a 'Yoda' voice. "- why you, this do, Felicity Smoak."

Felicity stopped giggling and sighed. "I just - it's just - it wouldn't feel right if I didn't go through with it."

"I don't get that." Samuel said. "But, I guess I get you." He cocked his head at her. "And the other thing?"

"Pfft!" Felicity huffed, rolling her eyes, gently kissing Samuel on this cheek . " _That_ just doesn't feel right, no matter how I look at it."

"What doesn't feel right?" A voice intruded in on them. They turned towards it. The doors of the bone marrow lab were open their father stood there, looking at them suspiciously.

"Patricide." Felicity retorted, earning a snigger from Samuel, before she walked past Ezra into the lab.

 

***

 

"Ohh-kay!" Samuel drawls, as his dopey face appears on the screen. "We need to have a talk on boundaries, Frodo. Specifically - you respecting mine."

(Felicity's feeling warm - and not in a good way. Her body feels cold but sweat breaks out.)

Sam taps on the camera and suddenly the picture is obscured by his thumb. "This is weird. The video's not good." She hears him say. He's obviously blotting something from the camera because she can't see him. Felicity exhales, hunching over the table, both her shoulders are throbbing now, but it's not - it's not bothering her so much anymore.

"Sam!" She calls out.

"Felicity?" He removes his thumb and next thing she sees are the whites of his eye. "Can you see me? It's all dark and grainy." He says.

"Yes, why?" She says, straightening up and starts to explain. "this is a low bandwith...y'know what?" She gathers herself. "I don't have much time."

"Are you okay?" Sam says, peering into the computer. "You look pretty frazzled."

Felicity glanced at the smaller screen on the side showing her webcam stream. The shadowy low quality video hid the facial injuries (which she was sure she had, because she could _feel_ her face throb), but her face looked swollen.  Her hair was dishevelled, standing out at odd ends like a Medusa-snakes.

"Frazzled doesn't begin to cover it." She muttered. "Sam, I need you to listen to me, now."

Sam doesn't pay attention. His lazy expression straightens up to his serious face. "Where are you?" He says, "Where're the Joes?

"Sam, I..."

"Dude, what the fuck!" He exclaims. "Is that a bandage on your shoulder? "

"Yeah, I'm fine, Sam...listen..."

"At least tell me you went to a hospital, Felicity -"

"Sam!" She yells (like enough to get Oliver and Diggle snapping their heads up - yells) "Pay. Attention!" She grits out.

"Okay!" Samuel says, his head bobbing about, as though he was trying to get a better look at her through the edges of the webcamera. "Does Ezra know about this? Is he with you?"

That surprises her. "What?" She frowns. "No, I thought he was with you."

"I'm in Albany." He says, sitting back. "Felicity, you look like you're hurt. Like - badly."

"I'm fine." She says quickly. "Wait! Why are you in Albany?"

"Ezra sent me here to inspect Kauffman's new factory site."

"He sent you?" Felicity says, feeling suspicious.

"He  - uh - he said he had you working something important." Sam hesitates. "I uh - Felicity? Are you okay?"

"Sam." Felicity sighs. "I don't have much time. Remember the account number and email address I gave you?"

"Plan X?"

"Yes - plan X." She says, a nagging doubt eating away at the back of her mind. "I need you to fast-dump the money and send those files to that email address okay?"

"Felicity." Samuel says, "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be...I'm sort of at a blacksite." She says, looking  up at Oliver and Diggle who are behind the screens, out of view.

"You have a blacksite? Cool!" Samuel says with an appreciative facial shrug. "Can I come and get you?"

She feels bout of affection for him and smiles, despite herself. "Not yet." She says in a calm, reassuring manner. "Send the email and wait for me, and..."

"...And don't tell Ezra I've heard from you or unless twenty four hours are up." Samuel smirks smugly. "Yep, I know the drill. Felicity, are you sure you're safe?"

Felicity looks up and meet's Oliver's curious eyes and then smiles back at Samuel. "Safer than I've ever been these past eighteen months."

"Enough." Oliver says, sternly, after Sam's feed goes blank. He jabs a couple of keys, forcefully logging her out and looks at her impatiently. "Felicity," He looks straight into her eyes with that soul-rifting look that leaves her vulnerable and helpless. " _What_ is going on?"

 

***

 

It was  not the fact that had Ezra said it - as much as _how_ he said it. Like he had the _right_ to make decisions for her; like he controlled her or _owned_ her now.

Felicity would always look back with resentment to the instant that Ezra nonchalantly repeated what he'd said: _You're going to Zurich._

As though it was the most commonplace thing.

(Poor people like Felicity didn't go to Zurich on a mere whim. They planned the cheapest season for air-travel, they saved money, they googled all the cheap hostels, they scoured for deals. They didn't just up and - _'oh okay, I shall go to Zurich because I feel like it'_.)

Ezra simply _decided_ for her to go to Zurich. Just as Ezra also decided that he would leave her when she was little, pop up at her doorstep in his fancy car when she was an adult, take her meaningful happy life in Starling, throw a brother in her face, get her a new assistant, a new wardrobe - just _decided._

"No." Felicity said. Something had to be on her terms. Randomly having her bags packed by a stranger, and being shuffled off to Switzerland, was not going to be how this played out. "No, I will not go." She said, resolutely.

"Nah, it'll be fun." Samuel piped up. "Swiss chicks are all..."

"You are not going." Ezra said, looking at him. "This is where you get off."

"What? Coast city?" Samuel snapped his laptop shut and stood up.

"Yes, you are going to meet with a representative of Amethyst Industries regarding a merger of their..."

"No way, I wanna go on the heist!" He whined. "I've never been on a heist!"

"It's not a heist!" Ezra said back.

"Oh I'm sorry!" Felicity said, feeling an incredulous anger. "It's not?"

"No, it's not." Ezra turned towards her, speaking emphatically. "It is a reclamation of property which rightfully belongs to me."

"I can't believe I'm going to be a thief!" She muttered, ignoring Samuel. "What if we get caught, Ezra?" She said, looking at him with disapproval. "In a foreign country. What happens then?"

"It won't happen." Ezra said, going towards the desk and opening the drawer. "Bondi will take care of that."

He sat down at the desk and began scribbling.

"No plan is foolproof." She said. "So if I get caught, would you even care?"

"Of course I'll care, Felicity! But it won't happen." He looked up at her and then his mouth twisted into a snarky smile. "I thought you liked adventure, given your recent hobbies?"

" _Tsk!_ " She exclaimed. Samuel looked at her curiously, Felicity ignored him. 

"Do you really want me to tell you what's at stake here?" Ezra's tone switched to a threat. "To _you_?" The voice inside answered. _Oliver is at stake here._

_Oliver. Oliver.Oliver._

 

***

 

Felicity's head feels like it will explode any second.

"My father has cancer." She says, thinking that would make a good start. Diggle's eyebrows cross, but Oliver does not react.

"He..." She says. "He came back into my life more than a year ago, around the - well y'know...He was the 'emergency'"

Diggle nods, Oliver is unmoved.

"He needed - _help_ \- with his business." Felicity says, hesitantly. "He had some - " She stops to exhale, unsure of how to word her next statement, and then speaks. "My father's not... exactly what one would call an honest man."

Oliver looks at her intensely - but with that unreadable expression; the one she can't break down; the one where she doesn't know what he thinks. Felicity lets her eyes drift to his forearms. He's sitting on the desk (- _her_ desk - where she'd man the computers and blab away to everyone's amusement-) with his arms crossed. His calloused fingers gently resting on his biceps. His forearms are strong and muscley; Felicty recalls that when he holds her or whenever he's hugged her in the past, those forearms feel like strong bands that are firm and gentle at the same time.

She finds an inexplicable amount of courage from the sight of them.

"Before he left us, my Mom and me - he used to steal." She continues. "Y'know? Card counting at the tables - hovering around slot machines to extract the winning jackpot - it was mainly gambling. I - that's how he met my Mom. At a casino."

(It's strange, she thinks, sadly. How weird your family sounds when you have to describe them to other people.)

"I guess 'hardworking' and 'honest' weren't his favourite words." She says. "If there was a way to make money fast and easy - he'd go for it. That's was how he got into trouble with the company he used to work for - and then when shit hit the fan - he just took off -" Tears well up, and she blinks them away. "Leaving me."

Madame Pain starts to envelop her in her gripey embrace. Felicity feels warm - and not in the good way - but in the about-to-throw-up, feeling-sick-to-her-bones way. Felicity sobs and looks up and around at her premises, drawing strength from it.

Something about the air here, charges her with an undeniable energy.

(This _was_ the Arrow Cave, except no one called it that, but her.

This was where she'd brought Oliver after his mother shot him; where Diggle became her friend-for-life; where she'd formerly become part of Team Arrow, except no one called it that but her; where her otherwise mundane existence was converted into this exciting roller coaster of crimefighting with computers; where she'd discovered her potential to orchestrate magic with her code-breaking fingers; where she'd fallen in love with Oliver Queen - _but let's not get into that because he must not know_ ; where she'd said goodbye to Oliver Queen to protect Oliver Queen.

This is the one place she thought she would never see again until she was a floating spirit of the dead Felicity Smoak.  

The one place that gives her the energy to bear anything - especially pain.)

She watches Oliver's forearms relax, his arms coming free - his hand cutting the distance between them. She's aware of his gentle grasp of her good shoulder. She's staring fixedly at his elbows, now.

"He tried to make good on his life." Felicity says. "He built SF Inc. He named it after Samuel - and me." She snorts, wryly. "Weird huh?" She looks up into Oliver's eyes. There's a - comforting look, of sorts, in them. "I wasn't..." She sobs. "I wasn't good enough a reason to stay, but I was good enough to have a company named after me."

"It was his loss, Felicity." Diggle says. Oliver's head tips in acknowledgement.

Felicity closes her eyes, feeling the tears slip out and takes in a deep breath. "Yeah well..." She sighs out the words with eyes closed. "Anyway - karma's a bitch, y'know? He has some nasty form of blood cancer, now."

"He needed my bone marrow." She says, after a pause, opening her eyes and then looking at them both. "There's some new treatment...where they continuously infusing a matching donor's cells to replace his own defective ones." She says, dismissively. "I was a better match than Samuel was - or any of his other donors were for that matter."

"You hate needles, Felicity." Diggle says, his voice is suddenly devoid of emotion.

Felicity smirks and looks towards Oliver; she tries to find humor. "Yeah - well - I was kinda forced to get over _that_!" She chortles. "What, with all that on-the-field stitching and patching up of this big guy here..." She points to Oliver. "I mean, there's only so many times you can gag seeing blood and open wounds while being a card carrying member of Team Arrow y'know...?" She trails off seeing Oliver's stoic expression. Felicity straightens up. "Sorry, yeah - I know you hate it when I call us that."

"Is that why you've lost so much weight?" Oliver asks, suddenly; breaking his silence for the first time since she started to talk.

(Given how much she eats, she agrees, it isn't a good sign.

On another note, Oliver noticed?).

"I uh - I dunno." She says, honestly.

"So what?" Diggle says, frowning. "You're his travelling bone marrow charger or something?"

"Maybe." She makes a face. "Ooh - I never really thought of myself that way."

Oliver breaks his gaze on her and shakes his head, looking away.

"So he - just...uses you for your bone marrow?" Oliver says, in a heavy voice.

(She can't tell them about the devious activities she's engaged in to help Ezra get SF Incorporated back - she doesn't think she could handle the strain of that confession, so she euphemizes it as best as she can -) 

"Well, yeah - that and he also needed me to help him with SF Incorporated... " She says, looking away from Oliver, because she couldn't lie to him when he was looking at her like that.

"...and help take _charge_ \- of the company," She says. "And - yeah, of  Samuel, too."

Oliver's face hardens, much to her discomfort (because she can't read him, like this). He releases her shoulder and his arms slowly fold on each other - and he's back to the cross-armed, 'I'll kill you if you lie to me' posture.

Felicity doesn't know what to say next, so she remains silent.

"Felicity." He says, in this cold, low-pitched (- undeniably sexy when used on anyone other than her - ) voice. "You were thrown off a motorcycle in the middle of high speed vehicle collision."

( _Yyyeaah!_ She figured she had to explain that, sooner or later.)

"There are scars on your body..." He says, in the same tone of voice. "...like they were once big injuries." He cocks his head at her, watching her face. "Injuries that were _not..."_ He emphasizes on the 'not'. "...from this accident."

She gulps in response (like - literally cartoonish swallowing a big fat lump in your throat).

"Felicity," Oliver says, tipping his head forward, his searing gaze fixing her in her seat (not that she was going anywhere). "I'm going to ask you one more time." He says, firmly. "What..." He bites out the words, in a take-no-prisoners tone."Is. Going. On?"

She looks nervously between Oliver and Diggle. Oliver doesn't budge. Diggle raises his eyebrows at her.

"There were certain people, who _stole_ certain valuable items - from my father" She says, slowly. "Important things." She adds, keeping her eyes fixed on Oliver's stoic face. "And..." She whispers, watching for the slightest change in his expression. "...I am here in Starling - to steal them back."

 

***

_Zurich was on her list._

The first time Felicity had ever been out of the country, was a road trip to Canada. Cooper wanted to see the Canadian side of Niagara falls and they headed out with a band of misfit college buddies like themselves. She'd been a little wasted half the way, but she remembered that she loved the air when she stepped out. She had gone berserk with joy during her tour on the Maid-of-the-Mist ride, and shamelessly smooched him when the boat made it to farthest point, in a manner fit to make all their co-tourists uncomfortable because she wanted to kiss under the maximum spray-blast, with the roar of the waterfalls in her ears.

That was when she decided she loved massive waterfalls.

At Toronto, she jumped up and down on the top deck of the Sheraton Center like a hooligan singing 'O Canada' to the tune of the 'God bless America'. Naturally, her ludicrous (and offensive, if one was being truthful) rendition had cops on her tail faster than she could sing the encore, and after a foolish run around the deck (who'd have thought that running around a _round_ deck would lead her straight to the people chasing her, right?) - they politely escorted her out.

Cooper protested, because well - he was Cooper and he protested everything.  But Felicity didn't mind.

She appreciated their polite-but-firm manners and told them as much (oh - and she was pretty wasted during the Toronto phase of the trip, too!). They were not amused, and she spent a night in lock-up as a lesson, but wasn't charged because she apologized profusely when she sobered up.

But Felicity had decided, that she loved Canada and she would visit again. That was when she planned to make a bucket list of countries she wanted to visit (and would visit, sober.

Except she totally forgot about it. )

The second time she got a stamp on her passport, was when she'd gone with Oliver to Russia. And. (Except for the whole Isabel-screwing-Oliver thing) she loved it just as much. She loved the new air, she loved the intricate architecture, she loved seeing new people and how different the language was. (In retrospect, if the whole rescue Lyla plan had gone bust, and they'd lost Diggle, she'd probably have hated it -

But.

Thankfully, that wasn't what happened -) and when Felicity returned home, she secretly wished to visit Russia again, sans any devious ulterior rescue missions.

A couple of days after they'd settled back into life in Starling, Felicity decided that making a list would be worthwhile.

_Zurich was on her list._

If anyone asked her about Zurich, Felicity wouldn't have much to say. She would not remember the picturesque snow-capped peaks of the Alps or the casual drive by the Limmat river in the Old Town, or the bustling streets of the industrial district she had visited.

She would have no stories of the Museums, because she didn't get to see them. She had no anecdotes from her trips to the seemingly un-corrupted natural beauty of the parks or forests because she couldn't take a walk in them.

_Zurich was on her list._

Felicity found herself in a conference room, of a very expensive hotel in Zurich, sitting at the head-end of a table listening to a presentation on a meeting on the future goals of Artificial Intelligence platform from the Chief of  SF Inc.'s Applied sciences.

(She - Felicity Smoak - former glorified secretary to Oliver Queen - and stuff was being presented to her by the _Chief_ of something.

With Katya taking notes by the side - just like Felicity used to do, for Oliver.)

And that was just the part she understood.

The next presentation (without Katya, of course) was with one Bondi's people - was a woman who's name she could not pronounce and would never recall. She'd gathered intel on Etienne de Sud's meeting with the contractor and other potential buyers.

(Bondi was ex-Swiss Military. His 'associates' by which Ezra meant his team - were the full spectrum. Weapons specialist, bomb specialists, personal security specialists, exfiltration specialists, intelligence and reconnaissance. They were a diverse group. Asians, European - German, French, Scandinavian. Some were American - one of them was an ex-secret service agent, another was an ex-Navy SEAL. His outfit was so super professional, that everyone on his team had information on a need-to-know basis.)

A game plan was presented - in Powerpoint. _("Someone is going to pose as a potential buyer. Someone is going to handle the intermediary conversations. Someone is going to do something awesome, some one else is going to be kick ass..".yadda yadda.)_

They made it sound so piece-of-cakey, that Felicity assumed that all she had to do was sit inside the van that 'someone' drove, while 'someone else' kept her safe, while 'some other one' was going to take charge of the satellite connection and all she had to do was tappity-tap.

Felicity was so overwhelmed because the whole damn thing was planned so meticulously that all she was, was a spectator.

What could go wrong?

 

***

They're both clearly stunned by her admission.

_"...to steal them back."_ Her words echoed in her own head.

 _You're not a thief, Felicity._ She expected Diggle to say, but he doesn't.

Felicity's head swims after her open declaration. She groans and drops her head into her good arm.

"Oliver." Diggle says. "She needs to rest."

Felicity looks up at Oliver and realizes that she can't see him so clearly anymore. She blinks repeatedly trying to clear her vision.

Oliver stands up and even though she can't see, she can _feel_ his gaze piercing through her.

His voice is rough, when he speaks, "Sedate her."

 

***

 

_Zurich was on her list._

Felicity had made a list with the hope that the universe would make it happen for her - a list of places she would see before she died.

Maybe the universe took her seriously -  a little too seriously.

Zurich was on her list.

And.

She almost died in Zurich.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \---->  
> Thank you all for your comments. I honestly didn't think anyone would like this fic.


	8. Decisions - II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and lovely comments. The flashbacks will get faster and shorter as we build into the present. This was a tough chapter to write, because it's very difficult for the Oliver in my head to get mad at Felicity (oops! fic spoiler alert?). 
> 
> Hmm. I wonder why.

Being in life-threatening situations was a given when one's secret identity was EA to Oliver Queen by day and side-kick to the Arrow by night. Her career as a sidekick involved having blades, guns, crossbow arrows (Hello? Helena!) at her and (heck!) a friggin' bomb necklace - and all that jazz; plus she'd been knocked cold more times than she could remember.

Freaking out in the face of death, wasn't a new thing, either. But - in all those other times, Felicity never thought she'd actually die, which was strange, given how serious the threats were.

It was only when she was facing Etienne du Sud, face to face - she realized why it was so different than all those other times.

Felicity faced death for the first time, with no guarantees of rescue.

Oliver was not there to save her.

Also - Zurich sucked.

 

*

 

When heist-plans are presented on powerpoint by mercenary henchwomen, Felicity reckoned that they were very likely _not_ going to work.

To say the plan had gone bust was:  understatement of the year. Reason? Interpol.

They'd raided the damn warehouse in the middle of the meet with du Sud.

While Felicity had been working her magic in the hideout van -  the doors suddenly burst open, she was hauled out like some reality TV perp, and _literally_ dragged by her heels by men in commando suits and helmets.  (And yes, there was a fair bit of shrieking and screeching on her part.)

Chaos, deafening noise and a firefight ensued and - and somewhere in the middle of it, she would never how, or when - but she scurried off in - to put it simply - a mad dash for her life in the heat of utter disarray. Felicity remembered stumbling on to Bondi's man, the one who posed as the buyer, who lay bleeding on the floor of the warehouse. She remembered her hands being covered in blood as she tried to help him. She remembered Bondi appearing from nowhere, hauling the man onto his shoulders and leading her to regroup.

Next thing she knew, Felicity found herself in the middle of a stand-off  in the warehouse's lower level.

 

It was like a scene straight out of a mafia film.  Interpol agents crawling around the upper levels of the warehouse like mice. du Sud  only a few feet away from her, with his gun aimed at her. His men were behind him with guns on Bondi and company; and Bondi and his men were behind her with guns on du Sud's men.

"Him, I know." du Sud said, jerking his head towards Bondi. "Who are you?" His accent was heavy but tone of voice was suave.

Felicity gripped her tablet, fully aware of her very limited defences given that du Sud had the advantage (- what, with his gun to her and she having nothing but a tablet - duh!); from the corner of her eyes she noticed Bondi's arm tense, his submachine gun poised to fire.

"Whoever you are, Mademoiselle." du Sud said, "You must be very important to Ezra David, or else that gorilla there wouldn't be hanging around to protect you."

Felicity gagged at she stared at the barrel of his pistol. She gagged when she threw a worried glance at Bondi's man - bleeding profusely, supported by his buddies, groaning.

"Did he really think, I would not expect intrusion?" du Sud said, aiming the gun between her eyes. He nodded back to his gang of gunmen.

Her time training with Oliver and Diggle weren't for nothing. Felicity had learned to identify tells in an opponent. And she could tell that he was agitated (and given her background research on du Sud, she knew that being an even-tempered person -  was his USP).

The cavalry was coming down on them, she realized. There was enough shouting and slamming heard from above that implied the eventual crackdown. Felicity noticed how du Sud's eyes were shifting nervously upwards to the roof.

Suddenly, the fearful rabbit-run pace that her heart was beating at, stilled.

"If they catch you here." She said, slowly. "They will be able to procure a warrant to audit your finances, Mr. du Sud."

"Which is why, my dear, I will not get caught." He said, grimacing. "You will be dead sooner than later, and it would be painless, _if_ you tell me, what it is you did to my nanorobots."

"They just...malfunctioned." She shrugged. "And they're not your nanorobots!"

"Guns... _malfunction,_ too." He taunted, waving his pistol. "Maybe I will accidentally shoot a blonde woman with cheap glasses."

She should have been insulted, but Felicity's internal CPU was too busy scheming. Taking a chance on her life, she moved. du Sud's outstretched arm stiffened. As soon as he did there were clicks heard on either side with everyone's guns ready to fire on everyone else.

(Hello, standoff!)

"Don't move!" du Sud hissed. His voice had risen a notch - subtly, albeit. (Diggle had taught her that it was a hint for nervousness...and. Nervousness is a weakness in an opponent.) "What are you doing?" 

She switched her tablet on and began to tap.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He repeated, stepping forward, pressing the gun on her temple. Bondi and company moved forward as did du Sud's entourage.

She was scared shitless. But she managed to control her emotions. "Saving your ass." She said, in a sing-song voice, one part of her mind focussing on the cold feel of the nozzle; the other part, ignoring it. Her fingers rapidly flew across the tablet's keypad. After a few quick taps, she looked up at him, defiantly - feigning confidence and fearlessness.

"Those are heavy duty magnetic locks that need bombs to break open." She said. "That gives you - and me, just enough time to escape through the backdoor...I've also locked access to this level. " Ignoring his gun she turned slightly and pointed. "...which is that way."

"What?" He faltered. "Why would I let you go?"

"I have access to CCTV feeds of the last three hours from this place - it was rigged for a sting operation BTW."

"B-T-what?"

"It's short for ..." She shook her head. "Ugh! Never mind. The point is, once I hit 'delete', no one will know that you were here." Seeing his confusion, she smirked. "I'm guessing you didn't know that this was a setup? I guess your reconnaissance wasn't that up to the mark, huh?"

"You -" He started to say and then frowned. "What?"

"I - am going to let you go, first." She said, imitating Oliver's growly super scary voice when he threatened bad guys. "And you will do so, quickly and quietly because I'm thinking the tactical team upstairs have C4 charges. It's a matter of time before they find the access door to this level and I'm guessing gunfire will draw them here faster."

du Sud looked uncertain.

"I know what you've been up to for the last two years, Mr. du Sud." She said. "It didn't take me very long to find out about your _investments._ So, in case Interpol happens to find your face on the video - which they will, if I don't delete it - they will want to look into you. And. They have very proficient cyber experts. And when they do -" She grimaced, instead of completing her statement, leaving the rest for interpretation. "You get the picture?" She gave him a comical wink. "I'm thinking - you'd rather _not_ get caught, than waste your time with me."

du Sud dropped his arm. Soon enough, both their gun-wielding parties did.

(Felicity was so grateful her bright fuchsia lipstick, because her mouth was going dry; so dry, she could feel her lips getting all chapped - a dead giveaway for the fact that she was pretty-much peeing in her pants. Faking Oliver's hushed threatening tone wasn't as awesome as when he did it... _probably_ because he could actually deliver on the ass-kicking, unlike her.).

"And now..." She said, giving a faked but smug smile as he was leaving, "...You owe me."

 

Bondi's man made it to the hospital, but succumbed to the injury.

In the shouting match, that ensued with her father, Ezra shrugged his death off as an occupational hazard. Felicity as good as _threw_ the nanorobot prototype and the AI hard drive she had salvaged on Ezra's face, vowing loudly to all and sundry that she would never engage in such a wicked act ever again.

"You will do as I say, Felicity!" Her father called after her. "And you damn well know it."

_Oliver.Oliver.Oliver_

Sure enough, Ezra redeveloped the AI, patented it and sold it. Two months later, she saw du Sud again at SF Inc's headquarters in Coast City. He wasn't the suave, confident asshole she'd seen at Zurich.

He was a desperate man, being forced to sign over a majority stake to Ezra at a dirt cheap price.

Terms   _negotiated_ (to put it nicely) - by her.

As, Felicity stood over his shoulder watching him sign the papers, she realized that even if the cost to du Sud was nothing compared to what he would lose had she not delivered on her promise to protect him from Interpol, it was a hell of a price for him to pay - giving up is hold on SF Inc.

But. When she thought of Bondi's man bleeding to death and the cold, unfeeling manner in which she'd more-or-less blackmailed du Sud into signing away his stake, she realized that it wasn't as heavy as the price she had to pay for it all.

Her integrity was compromised.

Felicity felt sick to her stomach about herself.

 

***

 

She opens her eyes to Diggle.

And when Felicity comes to she realizes, she's numb to her body, again. Diggle fusses over her - feeds her more ice chips, adjusts the IV drips, checks her vitals - all actions that she finds calming. 

"I reversed the drug," Diggle said, as a manner of explanation when he meets her querying eyes, and adds. "Oliver had to get to QC. Some - meeting, I dunno."

That was Diggle-speak for: 'you and I need to have a private conversation'.

"John." She says, through her parched throat. "I know - I know - how bad this all seems. How bad a person - I seem."

"Felicity, I said it before, I'm gonna say it again." Diggle says, putting a reassuring hand to her cheek that she cannot feel, thanks to the drugs. "There's not a force in the world that can make you a bad person."

"Don't be so sure of that, Dig." She mumbles.

John looks at her for a long time and then nods. He doesn't speak, though and Felicity remains silent, unsure of what comes next.

"Y'know." Diggle says. "It's funny."

"What is?"

"How much light you brought to this place." He says. "How much light you brought into Oliver's life. And how quickly it went back to dark after you left."

Felicity doesn't react because she's about eighty percent sure that Diggle's not talking about the power. Right now, she thinks, that all she brings with her is nothing but darkness and woe, whether she stays or leaves.

"He wasn't the same after you left." Diggle says.

"Dig..." She starts to say. "You have to know, I didn't want to leave."

"Which is why - none of this makes sense." Diggle says. "At the same time it does."

She smirks. "Now, who's talking in cryptic sentence fragments?" She jokes.

"The Hood was more than just a hood for Oliver, Felicity. It was a shield. He was a loner, broken and wounded, hiding behind this imaginary mask. Pretty much what we all are when we're back from some version of hell. Then you came along - and - Oliver wasn't just the Hood any more. I began to see glimpses of a person."

She frowns at that.

"He'd become a real pain in the ass, after you'd gone, I can tell you that much." John says. "Without reason - and it's not like things weren't going good for him as the Arrow - between him, Sara, Roy and me, we were bringing down crime rates faster than you can say the word 'freeze'. The city was getting better, but -  Oliver was getting - I dunno how to say it -it's like he was always thirsting for a new high."

Felicity says nothing. She doesn't even know what she's supposed to think. She's just numb and unable to process his words.

"Y'know - this place," He gestures around to the Foundry. "It's not been the same since you've been gone. And I don't mean all the computer work, Felicity - I'm not saying what you did there wasn't important but - what you were to us - to me - to Oliver. You never realized how your words reigned the dark beast inside him, you never realized how just being around you, made him want to try for normalcy - you never realized, that you were his comfort. I've said this to Lyla over and again - but it was you, Felicity, it was you that brought out the best in him...and me."

Felicity's pretty much stunned into maintaining her silence.

"At first, I thought -" Diggle says, looking up in exasperation. "That, he was retreating back to his island. I mean the one he still lives in most of the time - the one inside his head. I hoped that he'd find some solace in Sara - but Sara was working through a pain of her own, and Sara had already lost herself, just like Oliver did. And I liked Sara, fine but...she made it worse. He was this close..." Diggle made a pinch-grasp gesture. "...this close to going back to his murder and vengeance days. And - thing is - I didn't realize, but I was getting sucked into the same black hole, too and...if it hadn't been for Lyla - I dunno - if I'd still be here."

"What are you saying?" She says, feeling confused.

"I'm saying - that you are his light, Felicity. I've known it for a long time. And - Oliver knows it. I figure, he's known it for a long time as well - but he won't admit it to himself."

"That's hokey." She says, pretending to brush it off ( but inside - Felicity's heart is pounding.

She'd always assumed she was a party to be sidelined. IT nerd, the girl on the comm, uber-awesome researcher, maybe -  but she never had anything to more to add to the Team Arrow except for comic relief, senseless babbling with the occasional pep talk thrown in. Where she knows, it distracted Oliver from the constant internal pain he lived with, she could only have hoped to remain a close friend - not be elevated to a... a beacon.

But can it be true, what Diggle says?

Is she more?)

"Dig." She said. "I'm just tech-support - and a close friend."

"Call it what you want - but here's the thing, Felicity." Diggle smiled at her, warmly. "You're the best sort of friend a man could hope for," He reaches for her good hand and gives it a squeeze. Felicity feels pinpricks on her hand - aware that sensation is slowly returning. "And I don't just mean Oliver, Felicity - I'm talking about myself, as well. You were soldier at arms, and even if you weren't out there with us...you were here -" He taps at his ear, his temple and at his heart." - You always had our backs."

"John..." She whimpers, feeling so overwhelmed with his love. "That means a lot. But - I you have to know I can't stay."

"Which is why you need to tell me the truth, Felicity."

She sighs and bites her lower lip.

"First things first." Diggle says, "I don't judge you. I've done some pretty bad things in my time too - recent events included. Circumstances being what they are, you can't tell when and what they bring out in people. Second thing, if you think that I believe for a second that the reason you've gone all 'rogue' - if that is what you are doing - if you think I believe you did this for any other reason than a good one, you've got another think coming."

Felicity swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes well up with tears that slip down her cheeks. Diggle wipes them away, looking at her compassionately.

"I just," Diggle says, "I'd like to know what that reason is."

Felicity blinks and looks away.

"Is it your father?"

"Yes." She lies.

"See now, Felicity you've always been a bad liar."

She looks back at Diggle and says nothing.

"Is it for your brother?"

"Yes..." She says genuinely (because it is part of the truth). "My father wasn't much of a father to him, either, Dig. I owe him a secure future."

"But that's not all, now, is it?" He smiles at her.

When she doesn't take the bait, Diggle sighs and makes the statement. "I don't know what's going on - but there's one thing I know in my gut. You're not doing this for the reasons you say you are."

She doesn't reply.

"That's your tell, y'know, when you go all quiet like that. It always has been whenever push came to shove as far as Oliver was concerned."

"'What?" She blurts.

He smiles sadly at her. "You're doing this for Oliver."

 

***

When Ezra first told her about the need to retrieve Lynchpin from StarlingCorp, all Felicity could think about was the death of Bondi's man.

(Death was not a new occurrence in her life. She'd seen people die - and - the only way for her to cope with it all, was the knowledge that Oliver had tried his level best to prevent it, which what made it all worthwhile. Even if he didn't succeed.

 _But she wasn't living that life anymore._ )

"I've told you, explicitly!" She was using her loud-voice. "I will not execute any of your fracking plans in Starling! Find some other place and I'll do it."

"There is no other place." Ezra said, rubbbing his eyes. "StarlingCorp has the most sophisticated security system in the whole country. I should know because I helped design it."

"Then you do it!" She spat.

"Felicity."

"Starling is my home."

"Coast City is your home."

"Starling _is._ My. Home." She gritted out. "That is where I draw the line. I have told you time and again, no business in Starling - neither legit, nor your usual bullfuckery!"

"It's in your best interest..." Ezra started to speak.

"Y'know I've pretty much stolen a lot of crap for you this past year," She snapped. "And I still don't get how...how... _thievery_...is in anyone's best interest! It's _illegal,_ Ezra!"

He handed her a pen-drive. "A.R.G.U.S. and FBI surveillance." Ezra said. "Cyrus is planning a takedown of Starling." Ezra said.

"Yeah, him and half the villain-industry." She retorted.

"Except he's using my money as reward money - for anyone who will give him the identity of the vigilante."

"Oh yay!" Felicity pretend-squealed. "More blackmail!" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Y'know there's only so much of that you can get away with, and I'm pretty sure that..."

"Felicity!" Ezra drawled in his 'don't-interrupt' voice. "It is a matter of time before he finds out. You know, as well as I do, that Cyrus is not your friendly local politician."

"So that's your strategy?" Felicity taunted. "Pretend like you want to protect the Arrow, now?"

"Right now the Arrow is all that stands between him and his insane desire to take over the country - so, yes."

"That's bullshit."

"Yes," Ezra said, straightening in up in his seat. "You're right it is. I should give you more credit for seeing through me. So, Fine." He sighed. "I want to protect my assets and I want the money back, but more than that I want that damn code back. A.R.G.U.S. have their eyes on him but the trail leads back to me. If Cyrus succeeds - I'll get blamed for it - and even I can't fend of A.R.G.U.S."

"Then, maybe they'll put you in jail where you can live out your last days." She sings, and then flips to an angry shriek. "Like you deserve!"

"And what about your Mr. Queen?" Ezra smirked.

"Oliver can take care of himself!"

"Maybe, but can his sister - or his mother? You saw what happened at his mother's campaign rally. Cyrus forced Moira Queen out of the campaign by threatening Thea Queen and - even now, they don't even know it was him behind it all!"

"Yes, but the Arrow saved her!" She pointed out.

"And what about Ms. Lance? Or did you not watch her public almost-execution?"

Felicity shivered inwardly as she recalled watching the video feed of one of Cyrus' henchman place an axe on Laurel's neck and dared the Arrow to stop him on live television (except - no one in the general population of anywhere knew that the man worked for Cyrus).

"And the Arrow..." Felicity emphasized, "Saved her too."

"Have you ever considered what would happen if the his family and his girlfriend were abducted simultaneously and he's forced to choose?"

 _Ex-_ girlfriend, she wanted to say, but then she'd been gone more than a year. Anything could have happened that she didn't know about because Felicity pointedly did not read the alerts on Oliver Queen's love life (too much pining and longing). And this was Gorgeous Laurel - Oliver's love! Oliver's...

"Why do you think Cyrus wants to know his identity?" Ezra said, breaking her out of her haphazard thought-train. "It's not that big a deal to set a trap and kill some yahoo Robin Hood who traipses on rooftops with a bow and quiver. But, if, you have the man behind the mask in your grip -" Ezra says, meaningfully. "You have his identity. His family. His friends. His lovers. He can't be in more than one place at a time, Felicity." He looks at her pointedly and asks, "What is it that I always say?"

"Identity is everything." She says, hollowly, recalling the words he'd used when she'd asked why he never made his stake on SF Inc. public.

"Identity is everything." He nods. "And I'm certain that Mr. Queen, would do anything for the people he loves. Once, Cyrus finds out who the Arrow is - he will make a pawn out of your precious hero - he will use him to destroy the city - and there will be nothing _you,_ my dear, can do about it."

There was no doubt in her mind that what Ezra said was true. Felicity knew what Cyrus was capable of - even if Starling didn't know it...yet.

"Don't think, it's beneath me to reveal his identity, Felicity." Ezra said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm at the end of my life, Felicity. If I have to watch my company being taken apart, after everything I've done to try and save it, just because Cyrus _took_ Lynchpin out of my hands..."

 _...then I wouldn't mind screwing your friend over, too._ Felicity completed his threat in her own head, knowing that is what he wanted to say.

Felicity had no doubt about that either.

Clusterfuck. No better way to describe her situation.

Felicity sighed, exasperated. "Fine," She muttered. "But we do this my way."

 

***

 

Felicity wakes up to a world of pain. Again.

"This is getting really old." She thinks out loud, stifling the groan that emerges. The minute she tries to lift her head, it protests by erupting into a thousand splinter spasms. Her injured arm feels like there's a massive set of bricks sitting on them and her bottom's cramping because she can't turn to the side.

Finally giving in to the urge of vocalizing her pain she moans loudly between loud wheezes in an attempt to breathe her way through it.

"Felicity." Oliver's says to her, in hushed tones. (She had sensed his presence as soon as she'd woken up - and had she not been in the throes of Madame Pain's vice like grip - she would have had the time to get creeped out by her intuition - because Felicity wasn't big on intuitions.)

He cradles her head, winding his other arm around her waist. Felicity bites down on her lower lip - almost drawing blood as he hauls her up into a seated position.

"I can't believe you make this look so easy!" She gasps, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

"What?" His stubble grates against her forehead.

"Pain." She exhales, tucking her face so her closed eyes are resting against his throat. (A girl can't be blamed for trying, right?)

She can feel his jaw twitch against her forehead, his chest expands against her nose - it's a sigh - an amused one. It makes her heart flutter that she knows him so well. She remains like that for as long as she can stay still, focusing on the subtle movement of his throat whenever he swallows. He's stroking the back of her head - in that wonderfully comforting manner.

 _Do you hate me?_ She wants to ask, but can't bring herself to do it.  "Where's John?" She asks, instead.

"He's - he's gone to meet a friend. Something's come up."

"Okay." She says, tilting her nose up and trying to be subtle when she inhales his scent. (He's in work wear - like CEO, Oliver Queen, crisp business suit and cologne that makes her vagina water with lust - work wear.)

After a brief moment, he gently pushes her back until they are facing each other.

The one thing she feared - the disappointment, the betrayal (- that awful disapproval-face!) stared back at her. 

"Talk to me, Felicity." He says, tenderly, breaking the silence.

Felicity realizes that for all her verbosity, she has nothing to say.

 

"He's dying." She says - thinking about Ezra.

Oliver nods.

"Ezra developed a platform - he called it Lynchpin. It serves as a electronic currency miner, similar to bitcoin - but the code to the mining software if manipulated correctly is basically a virus that leeches real money from all electronic transactions on any banking network. Billions of card transactions bled dry through their commissions and no one knows how. When it goes unchecked, all financial reserves will get drained - the market crashes - it will cause an economic breakdown."

"And Cyrus stole this?" Oliver asks.

"And used it suck Ezra's money." She answers. "He will eventually push it into every banking server in Starling. There will be a massive loss -  it will lead to nothing but rioting and chaos."

He nods for her to continue.

"Oliver, I couldn't get the police involved, believe me, I wanted to. But - there's a huge investigation going on by the Federal Reserve into the regularization of electronic currency. Ezra just wants Lynchpin and his money back. Cyrus is using the money that he stole from my father to get illegal guns into the city."

"Felicity?" Oliver says, shaking his head. "Why didn't you call me?"

"The digital trail - leads back to Ezra. There'd be no way to protect him."  (That's not even half of the truth, but it's the only one she can give Oliver.)

Oliver frowns.

"I had to do this - for him, for Sam, too. He'll have nothing if Ezra goes to prison." (" _and for you..._ ", she wants to say, but can't.)

A sudden burst of agony rips through Felicity's arms. It takes her a second to realize that Oliver has gripped her arms roughly; his hands are trembling - with - rage and...hurt.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He's shouting at her. "This is more than just about two people!"

"You think, I don't know that?" She hisses, more out of pain than anything else. "But - this is my father - Oliver. And my brother! You expect me to just let them take the fall for what Cyrus wants to do?"

"I understand all that Felicity," He's livid with anger, and roaring at her. "But what I cannot get my head wrapped around is why you didn't tell me - before you decided to go ahead with it?"

It takes a loud groan from her with grimacing and doubling over, for him to relax his death-grip.

"Oliver." She whispers (because it hurts to talk in her normal voice). "In the five years you were on that island - the woman you loved died, you killed your friend, a man who taught you to survive and - you had to watch Sara - drown, _twice."_ Oliver's blue eyes fill with pain as she speaks.She pauses to breathe, licking her lips, trying to quell the dryness. "And still, do I even know," she says, smacking her lips,  "the worst of it?"

"That's not the same, Felicity." He says, thickly.

"Those five years made a killer out you, Oliver!" She asserts.

"And, you were the one, Felicity!" He starts shouting at her, again - loud enough for her ears to protest.  "You were the one who told me to find another way! I have done _nothing_ \- ever since you and Diggle dragged me back from Lian Yu - but try to find another way! So why couldn't you do the same?"

"There was no other way!" She screams. Adrenaline charges through her body, numbing everything faster than Diggle's magic drug. She shoves at Oliver's shoulder brusquely with her good arm, pushing him back even though his grip doesn't release. He looks confused, as though he didn't expect her to retaliate, and then he looks guilty - as though he didn't mean to hold her so roughly.

"I tried and tried and _tried..."_ Her voice is hard and growly, "...to find another way - but there was no other way! Cyrus is a liar and a thief. He would destroy this city using Ezra's technology. I have to steal his resources from him before he gets the chance to do it!"

"Is that why? Or is it just to protect your father and ...your new company?"

"Hey!" She roars back at him. "You don't get to judge me! You do not know the sacrifice I've..." She breaks off.

Should she tell him? Can she tell him? What Cyrus was truly capable of. That Ezra had threatened to tell Cyrus about the Arrow's true identity? That knowing the ruthless man that Cyrus was Felicity was left with little choice?  

And, if she told Oliver now he'd either blame himself or refuse to accept the truth, and she was betting on the former (and she'd rather, he hate her for her lies, than go down that path of self-loathing and guilt).

"Felicity!" His grasp on her shoulders is gentler now. "That's your excuse? You've resorted to robbery? For what? To protect your dad who - ?" He breaks off and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Felicity, if he sent you on this, your father clearly does not care for your safety! "

 _No - he doesn't care about anyone but himself._ She wants to say. But she can't - she won't.

"He's my father." She says, quietly. She winces, with every slight movement as everything in her body vibrates with all kinds of hurt - physical and emotional.

Something trips in him. Oliver releases her abruptly and suddenly slams his fist into the corner of table she's sitting on, rattling it. She jumps and grips its edges immediately - a wave of nausea coming over her.

She watches him, feeling resentful, as he curses under breath while he nurses his fist in the aftermath.

"Y'know...!" She whines. "I thought, _you,_ of all people would understand that! I mean - you had a kill list from your father, Oliver! And you survived that island just to cross names of it!"

"And look where it got me!" He growls, not letting her finish. "Tommy died! Five hundred and three innocent people were killed!" He jabs his thumb towards himself. "I wanted to leave but - you - !" He jabs his index towards her. "You and Diggle brought me back from Lian Yu. You were the one who said that this city needed me! I thought you trusted me, Felicity!"

"And I still do!" She shouts.

"Then why couldn't you stay? We could have figured out a way for you to work with your father and keep it straight!"

"I - I -"

"And - you go on, and plan a _bank heist?_ "

"I did what I had to do!" She screams.  "I don't know what happened, to you on that Island." She's defiant now, challenging him, almost. "Or maybe the half of what you went through -and every time you talk about it, my heart breaks just a little _thinking_ about and how -  it changed you. I accept that. You did what you had to do, Oliver! Why can't you accept that I did what I had to?"

He stares at her in disbelief. He opens his mouth to say things, and then just shuts it and then keeps repeating the action, until he just says nothing at all.

Felicity huffs in frustration and looks down at her knees, breathing raggedly. Her mind is so charged up with anger and resentment for the last year , with frustration, with annoyance that she can't begin to give in to the violent pleas her body makes for rest.

"Okay!" Oliver says, suddenly. "Okay...fine."

Her head snaps up. "What?" She bites out.

"We'll do this your way."

He's gone from red-hot livid to super calm in like all of thirty seconds. It throws Felicity off her balance.

"Huh?"  She says.

"You did what you had to do." He folds his arms and braces his legs. " I get that."

"Oliver!" She snorts, as the words out. "Are you - giving me your blessing, now?"

"No," He says, resolutely. "I'm just saying, you do what you have to do - the way you need to do it."

 _Oh grrreat!_ Felicity thinks, pissed off and sad at the same time. He's probably going to kick her out of his inner circle for good. It's what she deserves, she thinks. She's done pretty shameful things, things she's felt guilt and frustration about. It only makes sense that she can't resume playing sidekick to a vigilante and when her sabbatical from the job was an orgy of indulgence in criminal activities for her father - a man with questionable morals.

She sighs and waits for him to politely tell her to leave or to go screw herself or  to "have a nice life" - or maybe all those things - or _something_ along those lines.

But he doesn't. He steps forward, trapping her, when he braces her table on either side of her thighs, hunching over to look straight into her eyes. His face is so close that his nose is almost touching hers. His eyes are so blue that the stark black contrast of his contracted pupils are evident. Felicity feels pinned under his gaze.

"You keep doing, what you have to do, Felicity." He says, in a low growl. "But...you are _not_ doing it alone. Not anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love - and inspiration.


	9. Prelude - II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Oliver's POV.  
> This will just be a fluffy one - just to diffuse moods a bit.

_"What happens in Russia, stays in Russia,"_ she had said.

So it stayed. He kept it there.

 _'Broken hearted'_ \- He fully appreciated the weight of that stunned, disapppointed look she gave him that night when she saw Isabel at his hotel room. And Oliver felt his heart (or whatever was left of it after... _everything_...) break a little too.

 

It was in broad daylight, when the alarm at StarlingCorp went off. Diggle thought that every CCTV in the bank and five-mile radius going dead was a hint that it might have been planned.

Seeing it being impractical to suit up, Oliver had been in the process of putting on his helmet when a random window popped up with a feed. He didn't see Diggle's face but he did hear the shock in his voice.

"Oliver." Was all Diggle said.

Oliver rushed to the computer, there was only one camera online. A message pinged with it giving him an IP address, username and password. The time stamp on the camera feed revealed that it was a delayed recording from half an hour prior, and a woman wearing a hoodie looked up into their screen.

Felicity stared up at them.

He first thought it was a random recording. Maybe she'd popped by into the city, maybe she had some work at the bank and would probably call on them later. But, she was deliberately looking into the camera, like she wanted to be seen. The timing for the alarm, the blanking out of the cameras - the time stamp on the video - it was more that coincidental.

She mouthed the words. "Ezra David." And then the screen went blank.

He couldn't put it together.

The news channels went crazy with breaking news of a motorcycle chase after a tentative break in at the bank drew his attention. Oliver found a way to the intersect with the suspects, zipping across town on that bike. He was planning to obstruct their escape, planning some sort of roadblock.  Oliver made it just in time to watch an unidentifiable armoured truck crash into the escaping motorcycle.

The way that truck charged  - it was clear that it wasn't an accident. He watched with horror (- as did probably half the city, thanks to the news channel choppers floating above) how the pillion rider literally flew off the bike from the impact.

What the channels didn't catch was that the larger rider on the bike managed to jump off the skidding bike just in time to escape with his life. Oliver may have been the only one who saw the man abandon the trashed motrocycle and rush in a completely different direction than the potential exit. Oliver trailed him hoping to catch him and his accomplice. And it was all good - until he heard the scream. That voice.

It was _Felicity_.

He would have broken cover, if Diggle hadn't buzzed his phone that second. That minute-long distraction was enough for him to recalibrate his brain, recalling the message she'd sent him - the pieces falling into place. 

It took every inch of self-control within him, to stay away - knowing that she could be fatally wounded, hoping against all hope, that she wouldn't die. He was forced to watch her suffer all the way, her cries of anguish shattering him inside.

He followed them, keeping a distance - monitoring them. His insides cold from fear for her sake. It was a miracle she survived that accident in the first place.

Once the men left, he rushed towards her - heart pounding with fear and apprehension. She was hoisting herself, rambling all the way through.

 _"Oliver will never forgive you for this."_ She'd said.

Oliver wasn't sure what broke his heart more. After eighteen months of desperately longing for her, to find her all broken and wounded, or the fact that she had such little faith in his friendship.

Felicity always represented hope to him. Honesty and kindness. A champion for the light. Everything that he strived to save.

It's not just that she was cheerful, or that she was always forgiving or that she was impossibly positive given the amount of horror Oliver had exposed her to since he dragged her into his life. It was not even that she stood up for what was right, even if it meant standing up to him when he flirted with the greys or that she was so sensitive to everyone's temperaments that she tried to diffuse tensions with her humour, or her babbling or her general idiosyncrasies.

She was a fighter that way - she fought to keep the light in their operation, as Diggle put it, once.

She lived each day with the desire to live it. It was infectious, and Oliver felt it seeping into him slowly and he always loved that about her, even before he was _in_ love with her.

And then having to hear her exclaim those hopeless words...he just wanted to make it right.

Whatever it was - he couldn't care less if she'd killed someone or robbed them up at gunpoint. He didn't care if she'd swindled money or committed a terrorist act. If Felicity resorted to anything like that out of desperation - he had to fix it.

She was precious to him, he realized that in Russia. Her friendship was a lifeline for him; he realized that in Russia too. Given how Oliver was really good at screwing up relationships - the last thing he wanted as to lose her because he was reckless. So he stuffed his emotions somewhere else - decided to keep things simple. Keep away from the magnetic aura around her that just made him want to fall in. Except, it wasn't simple anymore. He was drawn in - little by little and then all at once.

Oliver suspected he was falling in love with Felicity while they were in Russia.

(He acknowledged it to himself, they day he said goodbye to her at the airport.)

She looks _mangled._

If his heart broke for her in Russia - he had no words for what state it was in now.

 

***

 

"I'm hungry!" She complains to Diggle.

She's feeling - super icky - for lack of a better word. If she can smell herself, Felicity's pretty sure the menfolk can as well. Even, though her body is sore in places she didn't know existed until they began to revolt with pain, she's feeling better enough to sit cross-legged on the table (still in her undergarments but modestly covered in the blanket.)

She's also been feeling cranky - which according to Diggle is a good sign, but she knows it's not because she's recovering, no sir, she's just - plain and simple - famished.

"I want Big Belly." She says, brightly. "Did you know that Coast City had only one outlet of Big Belly burger near the place I lived? Ugh! It was the worst. They put _kale_ in there, Dig. Who puts _kale_ in burgers?" She screws up her nose "Weirdest people in Coast City...But c'mon! Who puts healthy stuff in junk?"

Diggle starts to chuckles.  "No Big Belly for you - missy." He says, "I'm gonna make a trip to the pantry upstairs and get you something - and you're not going to like it, so be warned."

She makes a mopey sound. Diggle narrows his eyes at her and then asks, all matter-of-factly, "D'you wanna throw up?"

Felicity recalls her glamorous puke-fest in the underpass, and the godawful taste of bile. She gags and shakes her head.

"I need to take a shower." She complains.

Diggle shuts down the idea. "You can't get those bandages wet."

"Okay, then I need to get some sort of clean feeling on me. Now! Dig!" She orders. "Tell you what, drop me off by Oliver's mini-shower and I'll sponge myself."

"You can barely stand on your own." Diggle says, raising himself up from his seat. "I'll wipe you down, right here."

The idea of Diggle playing nurse to her just feels wrong on all levels. "Ew! I'm not gonna let you do it!" She exclaims. "I'm fine! I can stand. It just hurts....everywhere."

"Felicity, I can't let you strain yourself."

"Diggle, I can't think when I'm covered in bloody and grimey stuff and sticky stuff and..." She gives him a perky pleading smile. "You get the picture?"

"Felicity, you're a real piece of work, y'know that?" Diggle says, laughing and then helps her off the table.

Oliver's mini-shower is not as mini as she thought it was. Installing the shower had been her idea when she'd been refurbishing the Arrow Cave in the time that Oliver had disappeared back to his island  after the Glades.

(She had openly declared that she had enough the stench of man-sweat after their sparring matches - and in her defence, it was a brilliant idea. One that Oliver and Diggle took to, pretty well).

She'd never really been inside after the renovation was done, only had sporadic views of it in the background whenever Oliver would emerge after showering (steam billowing around him, that perfectly chiselled body glistening, looking all yummy and water-kissed - )

Felicity decides now as she looks about, that he's probably too big for it.

It held two full length mirrors on the corners walls opposite the shower that were strategically positioned to give him multiple angle views to allow him to check his injuries,  thoroughly.

(Also Felicity's idea - and her mind was a cleaner place, back then.

Meaning, every time she peeked over his shoulder whenever he exited the shower, she was _not_ peeking to get a view of his towel-covered butt from the mirror behind him.

Totally not.)

Felicity can't see her cheeks go pink when she blushes at straying thoughts of a fully naked Oliver. Her face is all shades of blue and brown.

"Ugh!" She grunts, indignantly, peering at the nasty gash on her cheek. Felicity lets the blanket loose on her injured side. Her bandaged shoulder and arm look as limp as they feel. She lets the blanket down further, seeing scratches all over her front. Then, she looks at the angled side-mirror and drops the blanket to see her backside. She holds it across her thigh, with her good arm (which - hurts like a bitch even if still functional). "Ohmigod." She mutters softly looking at all the abrasions and bruises.

There's a clicking sound and the door opens - suddenly.

Felicity freezes - eyes wide at the mirror - staring at the vision of Oliver scowling at her. He's holding a pair of towels.

"What are you doing?" He barks.

Felicity's just standing there, looking his image, whilst holding her blanket at half mast, just underneath the edge of her multicolored Rubiks cube boyshorts.

"Erm..." She squeaks. "Nothing."

"Felicity - are you out of your mind? You can't be thinking of taking a shower!"

"I er..."

(Her body is tattooed black and blue - her hair looks like that of an electrocuted cartoon - she's wearing that godawful unibra and multicolored boyshorts - she's as good as naked -

\- the awkwardness of this all, doesn't escape her.

But.

For some reason. It doesn't seem to bother him.)

She pouts a little and then says. "I feel icky."

Oliver looks at her in disbelief.

"I..." She continues."Need to..." She takes a deep breath and composes herself. "At least wipe myself down."

He opens his mouth giving her this incredulous glance. "Icky?" He echoes.

"I..." She puffs up with mock pride. "...am a lady." (can't blame her for needing him to notice her femininity, in _some_ way!) "I will not - think straight - unless I feel - less...icky. And I need to think straight - y'know - to come up with a plan G."

It's only after the words come out of her mouth that she realizes how stupid it sounds.

"Plan G?" He says, looking at her quizzically.

Felicity lifts her good hand, fisting over the bunched up blanket and makes a circling gesture with the index finger near her temple. "Things...going on in here. Too many plans at once. I lost count, so I'm just giving it a safe number." Noticing his open-mouthed 'are you still this insane' look, she squeaks. "Not important."

Oliver raises his eyes upwards (like he always does when he can't reason with her) and then shoves the towels on the hooks of the door and then slams it shut.

Felicity heaves a huge sigh of relief, nearly smacking her head on the mirror. She chucks the blanket away to the corner and looks at her body with disappointment, noticing how her the blue-green bruises along her ribs make it look like a continent was etched along them. She turns a little to the side and nudges the edge of the boyshorts over her ass and makes her biggest ew-face eyeing the nasty black bruise over the curve of her hip bone.

She's about to remark to herself that at least she can use her injuries as an excuse for avoiding this month's marrow extraction when the dang door opens again.

Felicity freezes. (Again.) Her face freezes in that ridiculous ew-face, too (where her mouth turns to a triangle and the skin over her neck is all stretched out, making her neck tendons look gross). Her fingers still over the hem of her boyshorts sitting over the peak of her half-exposed ass-cheek.

She sees Oliver in the mirror, looking at her with a curious expression.

_And he's shirtless._

"What are you doing?" She squeaks.

He keeps his eyebrows crossed, looking at her through the mirror and steps inside. Shutting the door after him.

 _...and why is he only wearing his..._ "Why are you in your shorts?"

"I'm going to help you."

"I'm sorry." She straightens her face and turns around. "You'll help me do what?"

"Y'know." He waves his hand about.

Felicity's jaw drops. He means to help her - _sponge?_

"I...I..." She gawps like a fish. "What?"

"Diggle told me you wanted to clean up - and you _need to_ resting that arm of yours."

"Oliver!" She gasps.

"C'mon, Felicity. It's not a big deal." He shrugs.

(And that is when Felicity decides, feeling her heart plummet - that Oliver sees her as an asexual being with absolutely no more-than-platonic feelings towards her.

Bummer.)

"Oliver...you can't - you can't- you-you." She sputters. Felicity's hand snaps into action, tugging the edge of her underwear up to her waist.

She does notice that Oliver's eyes follow her actions. He pushes the shower curtain aside where she sees a wide plastic bench tucked neatly away into a corner. He turns the shower on and drags it to a strategic location and motions for her to sit.

He's _way_ too big for this mini-shower.

Felicity becomes aware of that fact, when she watches him sweep his arm across and reach for one of the towels he'd hooked on the door earlier. The minute he stepped in, it was as if he filled up all the free space between her and the walls. The spray from the shower jet glistens over his body and his hair become damper by the second.

If the long sighted view of a wet Oliver was yummy, the short-sighted one was positively scrumptious.

Rendered speechless, she watches him wet the towel under the shower jet and look at her expectantly.

When she doesn't move, he rolls his eyes and then speaks, rather sweetly. "Felcity, if you're going to be stubborn about this, at least do it without hurting yourself more."

So nicely, that she steps forward mechanically. Whatever little breathing space remained, closes off; he manoeuvres so that she can move past him to sit on the shower bench - _his_ shower bench.

(And there's boob-grazing!

He must have noticed the boob-grazing right? He's a man! Why doesn't he look as uncomfortable as she feels?)

"I didn't know you had a shower bench." She says, wincing as she descends.

(She tries not to  think of how stiff her nipples have become. She tries not look at those chiseled six packs that are right in front of her face when he leans over her checking the water temperature. It's the correct temperature, she knows - she can feel the spray tickling over her back.)

She prefers to crane her neck all the way back to look up at his blue eyes.

(Rather than stare at his abdomen - because she's afraid she might actually give in to the urge of licking it - because she _is_ positively, legitimately - an idiot like that.)

"I mean," She continues. "Not that you can't have a shower bench! I mean. It's a free country! You should have one. You definitely need one for the bad days. When you need to sit. Y'know when you're all beat. Which is why it's called a bench - so you can sit."

Oliver gives her that smile/not smile and raises the towel to the back of her neck.

Her babble arrests when the wet warmth envelops her. Felicity instinctively moans - in pleasure, her eyelids snapping shut. A relieved "ohthankgod!" escapes her, just as he presses the warm towel on another spot. When her eyes flutter open, he's looking at her face - with affection and curiosity at once.

His eyes hold hers, and she follows him as he kneels down till his face is level with hers. She finds that she cannot articulate words any more.

"You don't have to do this." She whispers.

He doesn't answer her straightaway but wipes the down over the back of her good shoulder, over her bra strap and then down her arm. Her shoulders slump in surrender.

"Yes, I do." He says, simply; then he reaches across to wet the towel and wring it again.

He knows what he's doing, Felicity can give him that much. He dabs it down over the open abrasions (- she suspects, to prevent that burning feeling whenever something chafes over and open wound) and wipes it over skin wherever it is intact. He wipes down her good arm first. He cradles the opposite side of her face, when he reaches to wipe her upper back, the back of her exposed midriff, stopping just over the edge of her shorts, periodically reaching under the shower jet to refresh the towel.

Felicity can only watch from the corner of her eye - in wonder, and amusement. His eyes meet hers every now and then, a small smile appearing whenever they do. Felicity's abdominal muscles flinch the minute the towel comes in contact with her stomach. She captures the side of her lower lip, noticing that his actions are slower when he sponges over the front of her midsection.

When he looks up at her face, she notices Oliver's pupils dilate when her lower lip slides free from her teeth, momentarily; (but, she doesn't dwell on it because -) as soon as he reaches for her neck, Felicity moans again, leaning into the perfect warmth.

He hesitates just then - as he pushes the towel towards the hollow of her neck. He lifts his blue ( _blue.blue.ohsoblue_ ) eyes towards hers. Felicity moistens her lips, aware that Oliver's eyes drift towards her mouth.

He brings the towel down a little, over the top of her breastbone and then waits. Felicity understands well enough - that even if he wanted her, physically, (- though from his complete lack of response to her semi-naked state, it seems improbable -) he would never be anything less than a gentleman. (Even though, she legitimately wishes he just grab her boobs already !) So, she clasps her hand over his. He keeps her fixed with his gaze and slides his hand out from under hers, letting her grab the towel so that she can wipe her chest.

She almost whimpers in protest, when Oliver suddenly straightens up - breaking the intimacy of the moment. She quickly wipes her chest down while he's looking away.

Oliver reaches for another towel. He wraps the dry towel over the bandages of her injured shoulder, giving her apologetic glances every time she grimaces or groans.  Then, he nudges her to turn to face the shower. She wordlessly, follows his instructions, wincing every time pain shoots up her side. He motions for her to lean back against the wall.

"Stretch your legs out." He says and she obeys, keeping her eyes on his face, partly amused and part intrigued by how good a caretaker he is.

A stream of hot water flows over the major part of her thighs and slides down her legs. The water looks a little mucky as the grime and dried blood washes away. Felicity sighs with relief, frequently, as the warmth of the water ease her sore muscles. Oliver  places his hand on the top of her thigh (way - way too high up for her comfort). The water bounces off his hand onto her flesh. Felicity cannot hide the gasp that escapes.

Her heart is hammering away in her chest. She would never have thought the sight of a man's hand cleansing her legs was as arousing as it is just then. She bites down on her lower lip when his hand snakes towards the inner parts of her thighs and slides down. She fights the urge to make a noise, aware that her thighs are squirming instinctively to clamp together over her unmentionables as his calloused fingers run down her calves.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking at her, with concern.

 _Are you kidding?_ She wants to say. "Yep!" She squeaks. "Why?"

"You look like you're in pain. Am I hurting you?" He says.

Her body responds, in ways far too embarrassing for her to disclose. She feels a wetness down there, which is most certainly not from the water spray. Felicityclamps her mouth shut to stop what nearly comes out: _Er...yeah...You're kinda turning me on!_

"Mmnhmm." She nods, furiously.

Oliver resumes. She gulps when he hunches over to reach for the back of her legs, his stomach coming in contact with the side of her thigh. Her eyes focus on tattoos and scars on Oliver's back as he hunches over her.

(His wet - naked - muscley back.) Felicity's not sure if this is good ol' TLC - or just torture. It's sweet, and arousing and painful but in a way that exactly doesn't hurt but is uncomfortable at the same time.

She looks away, when he straightens up.

"Come on." His voice is raspy when he speaks. He gestures for her to turn around. When she complies, Oliver reaches for the top knot that her hair is twisted up in.

"I just have soap." He says.

"Not even conditioner?" She attempts to joke. He smirks - but doesn't seem as amused as he ought to be. He cradles the back of her neck a little, allowing her to crane her neck backwards and then releases her hair using his other hand.

"Ugh! I can see dust and insects flying out!" She thinks out loud, looking upwards, when she feels it tumble along her back. "I swear to you! Something died in there!"

Oliver chuckles a little and then eases her backwards, gently, until the shower hits her head. Felicity exhales a loud and long moan, her eyes fluttering close as water seeps in to her hair.

"I wonder if this is what a dry forest feels when the first rains hit." She blurts.

"I'm pretty sure it's not." Oliver remarks.

"How would you know?" She says, opening her eyes to look at his face.

"I was stranded on a tropical island, for the most part of five years." He makes a facial shrug - then gives her a triumphant smirk. He winks at her.

She closes her eyes enjoying the sensations of his fingers scraping through her scalp. "Was here a salon or something on that island?" She says. "Is that where you learned to wash women's hair?"

" _That._ " He answers, softly (she can hear the smile in his voice). "Is a secret."

She exhales a small laugh and relaxes into his touch.

There is something strangely intimate about him washing her hair. There was none of the weirdness she expected, but it felt strange. (Felicity's had men wash her hair before. Her colorist at the local beauty shop that she went to in Starling was a dude, as was the frou-frou uber expensive stylist who made house calls, who trimmed and styled her hair at Coast City - Katya's friend. There was something clinical in the way they approached her hair.)

It's therapeutic and cathartic all at once. He scrubs soap through using his fingers and she feels exposed, like he's seeing a secret part of her body that she doesn't reveal to others (which is saying a lot, given that she's in her undergarments - under a shower - with Oliver).

Felicity blinks away the fat droplets of water over her eyes when she opens them. Oliver is looking at her face with the same peculiar expression he gives whenever she sighs or moans for joy - like - he's seeing her.

Oliver keeps her head fixed in the same position and stretches out his hand to adjust the shower flow. "Lean back a little more." He says, sliding his arm in place of the hand he had at the back of her neck. "Keep your eyes closed."

Felicity does as she's told, grimacing because her sore back does protest. A light drum of the shower spray envelops her face - and she forgets about the pain.

"It feels like rain!" She exclaims, excitedly spitting out the water that hits her tongue when she opens her mouth to speak.

A short laugh from his part greets her in response.

Felicity is aware of Oliver sweeping the drops away from her nose and mouth. His fingers caress over the sides of her face, her chin and her neck.  When his thumb runs over her lips, Felicity resists the urge to take it in and suck on it.

Felicity groans a little as he raises her up to sit straight (more out of disappointment than anything else).  A squeaky noise happens, when he turns the shower off.

This was by far the most painful shower she's ever had with a man - and the pain is _not_ physical.

(Also. He's completely drenched.)

Felicity looks away from his shorts for her own sanity when he unwraps the dry towel from her shoulder - because she fears she'll be either be a) disappointed that he's not as aroused as she is - because she's an idiot who wishes for such things when Oliver's being nothing but gentlemanly and tending to her injured body or b) there's a legit chance she'll jump his bones right then and there.

Both seemed like eventualities and both were unacceptable, not to mention stupid and embarrassing.

Thankfully, Oliver distracts her by covering her face and head with the towel.

She giggles.

"What?" She hears him say.

"Nothing." She snickers.

(When Felicity was little, her mother would wrap her head in a massive towel three-times her size. She's giggle and squeal when the heavy fabric flapped around when her mother knuckle-scrubbed her scalp dry. For those few minutes she'd be in a little magical tent that was flying through a twister taking her to a magical place.

Felicity has that exact same exhilarating feeling when Oliver towels her head dry - and she can't control her mirth.)

He's grinning with her by the time he sets her free from the magic tent. He scratches his fingernails gently across her scalp, and grins with her, his dimples gleaming at her.

For that one moment it's just him and her.

No island. No Ezra. No city to save. No heist to plan.

Felicity's beaming when he runs his fingers through her hair, rearranging the tendrils. He fluffs the hair over her crown, affectionately and then looks up at her hair. His smiles fades for an instant just before it widens. "Wow." He says.

"What?" She reacts by reaching for her damp hair, wondering if she developed a bald patch from the accident or whether something vile was crawling out of it.

"I -" He shakes his head, eyes dropping to meet hers (- _there's that peculiar look, again_ ).

"What?" She's confused but still smiling, when she pulls a lock of her hair forward to look at it. It smells different, sure - like Oliver's man soap, but apart from that nothing seemed odd about it.

"I forgot you dyed it." He says, softly, giving her an endearing smile.

Felicity doesn't get it for a few seconds until she does.

(Her natural hair colour has grown out.  She never gets time to for touch-ups. Not since she took off, on her life-of-crime-roller coaster.)

The colour. Chestnut Brown.

Like Ezra's.

(Before he went bald from all the chemo.)

Oliver reaches for the same lock. Felicity releases it as though in a trance and watches his fingers play with it.

"It's - different." His tone is appreciative and gentle. "But nice. I - I like it. I think."

 _Ezra._ Felicity's father's face comes to haunt her. She feels like she's violently been yanked to reality. Her smile fades as she looks down at her hair.

"Ezra." She whispers, absentmindedly.

Oliver suddenly releases her hair. Felicity looks up and sees Oliver's eyes harden and his smile fade.

And just like that - the magic is gone. 

She braces Oliver's shoulder with her good hand as he helps her up. She allows him to wrap the towel around her, over her damp undergarments. He opens the door and steam billows out; Oliver keeps a hand on her elbow to prevent her from slipping on the wet floor.

He's dripping all over the floor of the Arrow Cave as he leads her towards the small cot on the side. Felicity sees a fresh wife-beater, a pair of shorts and an old button-down shirt laid out.

_His clothes._

"I sent Diggle and Lyla to get you some new clothes." He says, distracting her. "Use this for now. You'll um..." He looks a little weirded out, suddenly.

"What?" She says, her curiosity peaked.

He pulls his lips together, looking unsure and then sighs out loud before he speaks. "It'll be better if you got rid of..." He taps a finger on her bra-strap and . "I mean - it's - they're...sort of wet."

He's right. Felicity can feel the dampness from her soaked underclothes seeping into her skin.

"I just...I don't want you to catch a cold or anything." He says, quickly, averting his eyes.

"Do you think -?" He starts to say but does not continue. She understands what he means. _Do you think you'll be able to do it on your own?_

Felicity concentrates on her injured shoulder. The arm is limp and feels as heavy as stone. She thinks over the actions required in stripping off her bra and boyshorts - all of which require her to use that particular arm.

"No." She says, confident that she cannot lift it without help - and pain, lots and lots of pain. "You'll - um - have to help."

He meets her gaze. (The irony of it doesn't escape her.  Oliver Queen - a man who only had to look at a girl to get her to throw her lingerie at him standing there, looking her - feeling shy.

Because he's such a decent guy.)

"You can just cut my bra off." She suggests, bluntly. "It doesn't have any hooks. It's a sports bra, y'know. Not that you need to know, but it's better you know." She rambles. "No point in struggling with it. It's not like I'm emotionally attached to it or anything. Good thing I didn't wear the uber-expensive Victoria's Secret ones, huh?"

Oliver raises an eyebrow. She shrugs in response. She cannot be any more embarrassed than at this point. Shame 'n' modesty departed her train station a million seconds ago.

He nods and heads towards a nearby shelf to retrieve the scissors.  Felicity fixes her uninjured arm tightly over her chest, keeping the towel in place over her breasts, wiggling to let it down loosely over her back, letting it fall to her waist so he can have access. He purses his lips when he returns with the large metal scissors.

She turns around and inhales deeply, closing her eyes. Oliver smells like the soap he used on her and she's acutely aware of his breath over her neck. She trembles a bit, when she feels his knuckles brush against her back.

She reasons with herself. Tells herself that this can't be any weirder than the shower/sponging that just happened a few minutes back.

She holds her breath, when he wedges the scissors along the thick backstrap. She flinches at the sound of the metallic snip, and exhales all the tension she has within when she feels the bra give way. She gulps when he brushes his fingers against her shoulders. He grazes his fingers - almost as though he's tracing a line between her shoulder blades, until he reaches the injured shoulder, his finger insinuating between the bra strap - another snip happens, making her flinch again. 

"Turn around." He says - thickly. She does looks up at his face with partly hooded eyes. His eyes are all dark, his face has that unreadable look he gets so often. She swallows the lump in her throat, winces when he pinches on the intact strap over her good shoulder.

Felicity lets out a strained sigh as she feels the damp material being pulled off from under her towel lopsidedly.

(It gets stuck under her good arm.) "Felicity." He says, sounding uncomfortable.

"Yup." She croaks and lifts her good elbow allowing him to pull the damn thing off. The towel drops a litte, exposing the tops of her breasts. She tries to pull the edge of the towel up further, blushing furiously and averting her eyes from his intense gaze.

(She had fantasized about him undressing her - more than once. Mostly in her daydreams - sometimes the dreams would creep into her nights. Never in a million years would she have thought that him cutting her bra off for such a platonic reason, could be so unimaginably sexy.)

Felicity sighs again and closes her eyes when he drops to a squatting position. She can't hold back the small squeaky sound she makes when his hands slide up the sides of her thighs, underneath the towel.

This is too intimate for her. She feels a little resentful that he can be so calm about it, but then seeing his general shyness, maybe he's in new territory himself.

(Undressing a woman without the intent to sleep with her.

Only Felicity Smoak can make a puritan out of a former man-whore.)

She bites down on her lips when she feels his fingers hooking into edges the elastic waistband and tugs. He tries to be discreet, momentarily, looking away from her body, but she can't ignore the feel of his rough palms sliding down the sides of her ass, her thighs and her knees.

He does it swiftly - maybe to make it easier on her. She gulps and glances at him.

Oliver is looking at her with so much intensity - it's as though he fears she would disappear, if he looked away.

She steps out of her shorts and tries not to think of the fact that when Oliver rises up  - he is holding her damn multicolored Rubik's cube boyshorts in a pincer grasp before he tosses them aside.

"I'm sure they'll get some underwear." He gestures to her discarded undergarments, uncomfortably. "Until then you can wear this."

"Wait..." She says, shaking her head, when it occurs to her. "What about my clothes? Y'know - the ones I was wearing?"

"Oh." Oliver says as he picks up the wife-beater. "They're ruined. Diggle threw them out."

(Yeah - those clothes didn't stand a chance. Felicity recalls the fantabulous -and she is being sarcastic here - slide-ski across the road when she got thrown off. She remembers the chaffing gravel grate her body. It was a miracle she survived.)

He points to a bowl of some white stuff that looks like the porridge which Diggle had threatened to stuff down through a nose-feeder if she didn't eat it all.

"Eat that," Oliver says. "I need to get dry, okay?"

(He needs to shed his wet shorts. Felicity knows it, but doesn't think about it.)

He stretches the wife-beater out and pulls it over her head, tugging it down over her face.

"That was the weirdest shower I've ever had." She says, trying to distract herself as she lifts up her good arm. Then, he stretches the sleeveless garment enough to tug it around her bandaged arm. She groans as he helps her into it. He drapes the open shirt over her shoulders and the reaches for the shorts. He's squats again. She steps into the shorts and loudly inhales as he sweeps it up. When she's sure she can feel the elastic of his shorts over her hips, she wiggles, letting her towel drop in a circle around her feet. 

When Oliver bends to pick it up, she allows herself _one_ glance at the shape of his incredibly awesome butt with the wet shorts plastered all over them _(- one glance)_. As soon as he comes up, she immediately glances away to the small wet marks that his fingers left over the grey wife-beater.

"Hey." He says, as he straightens up. "Don't overthink this. Like I said, it's no big deal."

"Easy for you to say," She shrugs. He tugs at the waist of the wife-beater to let it fall about her comfortably.

"I mean - it's probably nothing to you." She says, hastily. "All the girls looove, throwing their clothes off for you."

He raises and eyebrow at her. The smile/not smile appears. And - he looks a little smug.

"Besides -  I imagined you and me under a shower, in different circumstances." She says, without really thinking about her words.

 _Ohholyfrackin-!_ What. What. _What_ just came out of her mouth?

Felicity's mouth hangs open when she realizes it. Oliver raises his eyebrow and then his lips widen into a cheeky smile, with dimple appearing on one side. He adjusts the open shirt around her shoulders while she's berating the fact that her brain absolutely found the worst way to say things.

"Three...two...one." Felicity curses and looks away.

 "Hey." He says, super softly in a kinda flirty tone, forcing her to look at him, sheepishly.

And then, before she can start her flurry of corrective apologies, he leans down, kisses her forehead and says, softly. "Me too."

Felicity's left slack jawed, watching his ass walk away.

 

_***_

 

There were some things about Felicity he would never be able to understand

Like, how an Ivy League genius like her would reject offers from premier tech honchos and settle to be an IT support staff in his company.

Like why she chose to be part of their group after Walter was found. Where it was righting wrongs, for Oliver Queen, reconciling with one's purpose for John Diggle, no one really knew what drove Felicity Smoak to pursue their mission.

(He'd asked her once - when they'd all gone out for drinks. She was more than a little tipsy, and she smiled at him dreamily, looking into his eyes with that dopey expression and said, "You - Misshtah Q. You and Mishtah Diggle inshpire me!"

Then she slumped her head on the table and passed out.)

Like her family. (She never spoke of her family. He _had_ noticed it. She was clever about dodging the topic too. Not just with him, but with Diggle as well.

She seldom visited Vegas. She spent her holidays in Starling.

For all the interminable voicing out of what was going on inside her head at any given moment, Oliver noticed there were no anecdotes, no jokes, no references to her home or childhood. She started babbling random things whenever Oliver would casually ask her about her life before Starling. She brushed it away whenever Diggle managed to bring it up, directly. Sometimes she'd just go quiet - and not say anything.

There was one slow night in the Foundry when Felicity threw an impromptu belated party for Diggle's birthday consisting of cupcakes and beer. Diggle reminisced about his childhood with his brother, Oliver threw in stories of some of his antics with Thea, Felicity heard it all with interest - laughed when they laughed, smiled when they smiled, even became emotional when they did - _but_. She never shared anything of her own.

And Oliver noticed.

Her mother had taken a selfie with her once and posted it on her facebook page; the alert popped up on their systems because Felicity's internet scouring program would throw alarms if ever their names came up on the web. Oliver had been alone in the Foundry when it came on and he checked it, casually.

Maybe their facial structures were similar, and the fact that there was a blood relationship was evident but the resemblance was feeble - at best.

Oliver knew Felicity dyed her hair, so it was obvious she didn't get that from Donna. They both had blue eyes, but Felicity's were different - though Oliver couldn't tell how. He didn't get long to analyse because it was deleted a few minutes later, which he suspected Felicity had probably done it herself; suspicions, confirmed when he later learned that Felicity had been forced to visit Vegas because Donna Smoak threatened to come to Starling if she didn't.

As brief as the life of the photograph was on the internet, it was on long enough for Oliver to wonder whether Felicity bore resemblance to her father.)

The only time Felicity ever opened up about her Dad was that moment when she told him how about Macolm being Thea's biological father.  The day his mother announced her mayoral candidacy. In the aftermath, of that day - Oliver knew Felicity was always going to be truthful to him.

Which was why - none of this ever made sense.

When Felicity told him she had to leave he felt sorrow more than shock. Like after, someone takes a knife to one's solar plexus and then keeps stabbing it - repeatedly. He was angry - at her for preparing to leave, at her mysterious circumstances for forcing her to leave, but above all - at himself, for being angry at her - and for the terrible loss he felt when he understood he wouldn't be seeing her every day (because - Felicity was the best part of his day).

Sorrow, shock, anger - but the worst of all was the fear. The fear that she would never return. The fear that if she did, she would no longer look at him with the adoration and blamelessness that she never bothered to mask. The fear that she would find someone else, someone who understood what she said when she talked tech, someone who appreciated her talent - someone who wasn't him. Someone more deserving of her.

Oliver wondered whether she would have left, if he'd ever admitted his feelings to her. He wonders if she would have told him what was going on.

But that doesn't matter now.

The more he argues with her, the more she stubbornly refused to give in to his inquisitions.  The more infuriated with her he becomes - the more convinced he is.

Now that he has her - he isn't going to let her go.

Not again. Not ever.

 

***

Oliver is unmoved.

She protests, she argues, she finds excuses - but it really doesn't matter.

He backs away from her quietly (while she protests); paces up and down (while she argues) and then just stands there, clenching his jaw, nodding his head every now and then (when she makes excuses) - but - the general stance is that he won't budge.

Oliver's made his decision to become a part of this. Felicity knows that look on his face. He won't argue, he won't discuss - and - he won't relent.

When she's done remonstrating, he grimaces, the smile not reaching his eyes. "The way I see this -" He says, after a quietly listening to a  whole ten minutes of her griping, "- is either I stand in your way. Or. You make me a part of your plan."

"Oliver, I don't want to get you into any trouble." She says, weakly.

"That's how I used to feel, every time I got you involved in our missions." He says, smugly. "Didn't stop you from jumping right in the field."

 _Okay, so that didn't work._ "How am I supposed to explain you to...to Ezra?" She whines.

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." He shrugs.

"What about Starling? The city needs you more than I do."

That pained look flashes in Oliver's eyes suddenly. He shakes his head at her when he speaks. "If you were looking what I'm seeing now -" He gestures to all of her ."You wouldn't be saying that."

That infuriates her. "I can take care of myself, Oliver."

"Can you?"

"Y'know..." She fumes. "I'm not as pathetic as you think I am."

He gives her an exasperated look in response.

"Isn't that what your implying?" She says, fuming.

"Felicity!" He exclaims angrily. "You almost _died_ out there, day before."

 _Day before?_ How long had she been out?

"I-  I - " He looks distraught when he starts to speak again. "What if they... had...called me?"

"Why would anyone call you?"

"To identify you..." He says, in a low voice.

"What you mean like in a lineup?"

He doesn't say anything, but he looks directly at her, meaningfully.

"Oh." She whispers.

He was still listed as her emergency contact, the logical part of her asserts, _they would have called him to identify the body,_

"You were gone for a year and half -" There's a hint of a desperation in his tone. "...and the first time I see you after all that - is on a table? In the morgue? The _idea_ of it makes me...!" He hesitates, closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, there is a desperate plea in those eyes. "Can you imagine..." He clenches his jaw between words, slowly ground out. "What that does to me?"

That hits her hard.

She's lived with the fear of watching Oliver die since they day he ended up in the backseat of her car (where he _almost_ died). She embraced that fear every time she would bid him goodbye before he left the Foundry.

Felicity's emotions echo the exact same feeling she had, when she had to say goodbye to him at the airport.

"I'm sorry." She says, uneasily.

"Look -" He says, after a protracted silence of just staring at her.

"You can't tell me, _why_ you wanna do things this way...I get it." He speak, calmly. "But I'm not going to just stand by and watch you destroy yourself, Felicity. It's impossible for me to just..." He breaks off and sighs. "Do nothing." He looks at her meaningfully. "So you wanna do things your way? Fine. No questions asked." He gives her his no-nonsene look. "But." He says in clipped tones. "Whatever you have planned - I'm coming with you."

Felicity looks at him but her mind and her heart are at war within her. Ironically, it is her heart that begs her to keep him out of this, while her mind starts kicking the cogwheels to move, to find ways to seriously consider what he was saying.

"Oliver, you can't do that." She whines.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a pigheaded, stubborn pain in the ass - that's why." She says, loudy. Oliver's face goes blank - almost comically. She rolls her eyes. "This situation with Ezra and me - it's too complicated."

"You're worried I'll make it worse?" He frowns.

"I'm not saying that!" She says. "I mean - I don't think it can get worse than it already is. You'll see stuff going wrong and you'll want to stick your finger in it and fix it - but you don't get that it doesn't need fixing, it needs a permanent solution! And the way things have been - I'm saying you might overreact and be all...all....Oliver about it."

The smile/not smile appears much to Felicity's irritation.

"I know, I know!" She huffs. "That didn't make any sense. I'm just saying, if you need to, y'know, sort of get in there and be the Arrow without us blowing our cover, I won't be able to talk to you on the comms or man the computers, or track your movements without him noticing. There's no scope for me to play sidekick on this one."

The corners of his mouth quirk upwards - his eyes go all light and twinkly. "You're trying to say that I'm not used to following orders?"

"I'm not..." She says, quickly. " _Giving_ any...orders! I'm not an order-giver, or I dunno what is it called - I mean to say I'm not going to be like a captain or a general or  a boss or whatever! You get it."

Oliver gives her a lopsided smile and snorts.

"What I'm saying is..." She struggle to find the words. "This isn't like one of our missions. It's very - complicated. There may be _things_ that you'll have to force yourself _not_ to do - even if you want to do it."

" _Things_?"

She looks away and mumbles the rest of the words. "Like put arrows in people - even if they deserve it."

He gives her an amused smirk, "You're certain those situations will come?"

"Oh!" Felicity makes a wide-eyed face. "Like - all the time! Top of the list will be me."

Oliver keeps looking at her for a second and then starts to guffaw.

"It's not funny!" She grumbles.

"Felicity..." He sighs and steps forward, coming close to her. He speaks in gentle, soothing tones. "I can never feel that way about you - you know that."

"Oliver, if you know what I have planned - if you knew the half of what I've done this past year, I'd be on your list." She says. "If you still had it."

He looks like he wants to press her more, but he doesn't.

"Okay." He smiles at her - reassuringly. "What if ..." He says. "I promise...to do as you say? What if I promise, I won't be in the way...or...put arrows in anyone or jump the gun. Hmm? How about I agree that you're the boss?"

He sighs - this long adorable sigh that doesn't reek of frustration but of relief. He cups her face in his hands, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. Felicity's shoulder slump, her body leans in to him, involuntarily.

"Tell you what - " His voice drops to low and tender. It's soothing. "How about I be your sidekick for this one?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are like food for me. Please feed me.  
> (yes - i am that desperate)


	10. Faith, love and things in between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Sorry for the delay.  
> a) was out of town & country  
> b) RL was super crazy  
> c) was also a bit blocked because - hello? 4 x09? So much angst - I love it!!  
> d) Also had an idea for another AU which I will post soon  
> So I've made it a really long one because of all the waiting. Hope you like it.  
> Oliver's POV.

When he walked into her cubicle with a bullet ridden laptop three years ago, bled in her car after being shot by his mother three years ago, asked her to help him, three years ago - she didn't know the Hood; she didn't know Oliver Queen; she had nothing to go on except faith.

Faith.

The least he could do was return it.

*

It's her brown hair that throws him off every time he sees her, now.

He knows it's not just him. Diggle's confessed that he finds it unsettling to see her as a brunette, as well.

("Maybe it was 'cause we're not used to it." Diggle had remarked.)

There's a coppery glow to her crown from a distance - as the white light from the tubes or the blue light from the computer screens illuminate her wavy hair. He doesn't see it every time - but whenever it does it intrigues him.

Oliver doesn't know when he decided that he likes her as a brunette. He notices the odd locks with blonde tips from the longer sections and thinks of the days she had bright golden hair, uncertain of which look he prefers.

She was gone so, so long.

Now, she's alive and safe, he realizes, afterwards, and - he doesn't care what the colour her hair is.

*

Even though Oliver and John agreed to take turns watching over Felicity; from the time he'd found her until she began to show signs of improvement, Oliver had preferentially remained with her. He slept on the floor after they moved her from the table to his sleeping mat the past two days, so she could sleep more comfortably.

She would have protested if he'd allowed her to stay conscious.

Oliver and John relied on her chattiness and appetite as indications, which progressively increased - even though she was still visibly in pain. But, she becomes stronger, with each passing day of her convalescence. Though, they kept her sedated for the most time because of her tendency to get restless whenever she was alert.

Every waking minute, she wanted to be near the computers and fiddle - and it wasn't helping her lacerated arm. It came down to a two-to-one vote-out when Felicity kept comparing her recuperation with theirs, with a constant iteration of: "But you guys never listened to me when I used to tell y'all to rest after injuries."

He returns from the office, one night, to find her hunched under a table, muttering to herself and...

...Not resting.

"Should she be doing...?" Oliver starts to say.

Diggle gives him an exasperated look cutting him off. Obviously, Diggle has the same doubts about Felicity over-using her arm and probably expressed it and probably got his head bitten off.

"Fe-li-ci-ty!" Oliver calls out, a little chide in his tone.

"I'm not a six year old. I'm fine!" She barks, not looking back at him.

She sounds cranky. He takes that as a good sign.

Diggle whispers to him that Felicity's complaining of a backache that she wants to distract herself on by working on something with wires.

"Do you think it's a vertebral fracture? Maybe we've been moving her too much." Oliver says, concerned.

"I think it's muscle strain from the motorcycle." Diggle says. "Maybe she's feeling it now because the arm _is_ better. She felt better after I rubbed her back, so just give her the sedative. It should take care of the pain, too." He gathers his coat and bids them good night. "Oh and...Felicity wants Big- Belly." Diggle adds, loudly. "She'll make the  'puppy-eyes' - don't fall for it!"

"Don't worry." She calls out. "He _never_ falls for it!"

Oliver is surprised she thinks so. (He always gave into her 'puppy faces'; it came with a pouty mouth and a lot of cute-talk from her that made him want to smile and kiss her, even when he was pissed off.)

"Felicity." Oliver calls out her, shrugging his jacket as he goes towards the table. She's taken a liking to his wifebeater and the pair of shorts that Lyla bought for her. Oliver notices that she tends to prefer his clothes to the ones that Diggle and Lyla bought.

And he doesn't complain because - truth be told - the sight of her in his clothes does something to him.

He stands over her shoulder and studies her. She's kept a circuit board on the floor and is tapping at it with some device with her good hand. His eyes shift towards the bandaged arm and then inadvertently drifts to her chest.

It's a warm night in the Foundry.  Her cleavage shines with small beads of sweat, the tops of her breasts twitching with each movement and her nipples strain against the wife-beater. The instant he feels his body responding to her, he blushes inwardly and immediately averts his eyes.

She throws back that lush wavy hair with a flick of her head and looks up at him with those blue eyes. Felicity's always had an innocence to her face. Now, with the chestnut hair, her lovely face completely bare of her bright glaring makeup, she looks positively child-like.

"You two cannot be trusted with wires." She says, pouting her mouth.

A large grin breaks out on his face. He sinks to his haunches. "Let me help?" He offers.

He's unable to resist the urge to push an errant lock away from her eyes and gives in. She sucks in a breath at his actions - he notices.

Felicity nods without protest.

Given how anal she is about fine workmanship on the electronics, Oliver's surprised how easily she relents.

Either she's in monumental pain or she's woozy. Maybe a bit of both.

She hands him a small blow torch and gives him directions. Except, for the occasional input, she keeps silent, supervising his work.

"Can you help me brush my hair?" She asked, softly and suddenly. "We're done, by the way. That's fine." She says, hurriedly, nodded towards the device.

Oliver sets the circuitry aside and smiles at her warmly. Her eyes get that dazzled look again. "It's just, that I forgot to ask, John." She starts to ramble, immediately. "And I meant to ask him, but the he wouldn't let me order Big Belly and I was really craving a cheesburger but he wanted me to eat the gunky porridge - which was like - ew! So I completely forgot about my hair."

"Felicity." Oliver stops her, chuckling as he speaks. "Its fine. I'll help you brush your hair."

 

Brushing her brown, shiny, hair, is a strange experience for him. It's not like he's never combed a woman's hair before. He'd actually learned to tie pig-tails for Thea, when they were younger.

It's just that he expects her to babble away while he combs her hair, except that Felicity becomes strangely still and quiet. It's almost as though he's discovered a mute button for her.

"I'd like to dye it blonde again." She says, while he smoothens the knots out.

"Now?"

"Du-uh! No!" She exclaims. "Not now!"

"Good," He says, good-humouredly. "Because I'm pretty sure I'm out of hair dye. I have some industrial bleach lying around somewhere"

She makes a disgusted face at him. He winks at her and then says. "I have a present for you."

Her face lights up. She gives him a curious look with a small smile playing at her lips as he reaches into shirt pocket.

 

(The day after Felicity left - Oliver entered the office, unwittingly expecting to be greeted by her blinding shade of lipstick, some hilarious jibe or an excited bombardment of walk-and-talk uncoordinated sentence fragments - all of which, inevitably, forced a smile on his face.

A blonde sat at her disk. She had amber eyes and wore a more sedated business suit. There was no bright smile, no rhetoric, no babbling.

And Oliver was consumed by an unimaginable sense of loss.

He nodded politely at the temp and headed towards his desk to find Isabel sitting there at his desk, wagging her thin legs and sneering at him. "I selected her personally," she had said, nodding towards the temp. "Because - you like blondes so much."

Oliver felt a mix of anger, irritation and something inexplicable that demanded to the quenched.

Felicity had a spare set of glasses she liked to keep in the office. He found it the same day, while he was angrily rummaging through her desk for some papers. For all her haphazard thinking, she was quite an organized worker, particularly when it came her computer area and sure enough he found the papers where he expected to find them, which angered him all the more, because she wasn't there to give him those looks or say something funny.

He remembers taking those tortoise shell spectacles in his hands and caressing them. He remembers wanting to punch a hole in the glass between their offices. He remembers closing his eyes, wishing that she'd be standing behind him, chiding him for touching her things. He remembers the frustration he felt when he knew his wish wouldn't be granted.

He vented his anger by asking Isabel out for a drink and no-strings attached roll in the sack. (One among the many in a very long line of preventable poor life decisions Oliver would make, after Felicity left.)

But...he also kept those spectacles safely in his bottom drawer, in the office.

Felicity's absence inevitably impacted his ability to juggle his time at QC with life as the Arrow. It wasn't just the void she left in the Foundry; her exit affected his ability to manage as CEO. Felicity compensated for the deficiencies in acumen he _ought_ to have gained, had he finished school. Having her around, gave him the freedom to learn the things on the job without betraying his ignorance of to either Isabel or the board; with her gone - Oliver lost that flexibility.

Every so often, he'd look at the spectacles with longing. Every so often, he'd take it out and admire them, just because he missed her.)

 

"Awww!" Felicity sighs, bringing his attention to the brightness on her face and the little dimples under her cheekbones when she smiles. She takes the spectacles with her good hand and fingers them.

"Well, you lost your glasses." He says. "You've been talking about them in your sleep."

"Yeah, myopia sucks." She says, grinning. She tries to flap them open them open with a flutter of her good hand. He takes it from her, before she injures herself, opens it out and then pushes them over her nose, threading his fingers through her bangs, tucking them behind her ear.

"Now, there's a sight for sore eyes." Felicity mumbles, softly, blinking at him through her glasses.

Oliver just looks back at her, fighting the urge to kiss her.

Felicity sleeps off wearing those glasses, while he massages her back. Unable to resist, he curls up beside her, finding some solace in her slow breathing and her small frame spooned into his, telling himself as he closes his eyes and nuzzles her shoulder that he'll move to the floor, later - but doesn't.

For the first time, he sleeps soundly, undisturbed by nightmares.

 

 

 

***

 

"Okay! " Thea comments, just after he greets her with a kiss before he takes the seat opposite her on the dining table. "Someone's all bright and perky."

"I'm always bright and perky." Oliver beams and winks at her.

(There's a constant need to smile that seems to have infected him. Most of the time he's unable to fight the urge to smile randomly, which is ironic because nothing is going right in the life outside the Lair. 

They were short handed as it is; Roy was out of town for the last two weeks on account of some sick friend. They couldn't count on Sara, who'd gone AWOL since Oliver and her had that massive blow-up.

The city's crime rates had spiked that week. Things at QC were as messed up as ever.

Oliver was too preoccupied to care.)

"No, like seriously, it's wigging me out." Thea says, peering at his face. "Is that Felicity girl back or something?"

Oliver's smile fades. _She couldn't possibly, have known...?_ "What?" He says.

"Come on, Ollie." She says. "This is the first time I've seen you - I dunno - all smiley in more than a year. You've been all creepy and broody since your assistant quit on you."

Oliver shifts uncomfortably. "I have not..." He protests. "...been...all...creepy. or Broody."

"You were always _nicer_ after...y'know she came to work for you. I mean, after the island, and the Glades and Tommy and all..." Thea pouts pensively. "She made you smile a lot. Were you two - like - together?"

"That's a load of crap, Thea." He says (though, listening to his voice, he knows he does not sound convincing). "Felicity and I are -" He hesitates. " _Were_ \- just friends"

"Yeah. well," Thea says, picking on her food. "You've been kind of an asshat, ever since she left. And now you're...kinda not..so I was wondering if she was back or something."

"An asshat?" He echoed.

"Mmhmm." Thea nods. "Roy says so, too."

(First Roy...then, Diggle...now Thea.)

"Right." He mocks. "Because if Roy says so..."

(But secretly though -

Oliver knows it's Felicity's presence that does that to him.)

 

There's been a dramatic shift in the atmosphere in the Foundry ever since she was back. In theory, he should be wound up and anxious about her state, he should be running an ex-parte investigation on the activities she had been embroiled in; he should at least _try_ to hold a grudge at her belligerent refusal to tell him the truth  - but for some mysterious reason, despite her injuries, her secrets and her pain, the calm, loving, friendly and luminous aura that is Felicity Smoak seeps through the dark, rather dismal, tense space the Foundry had become over the past eighteen months.

Her mere presence restores a mysterious balance to his life.

There's no point trying to fight it  - so he grins wide, earning a suspicious look from his sister.

"Hmm." He says, shrugging. "I had a good day at work."

"Which is weird, since you haven't been spotted at your job since the past few days? Not to mention you haven't really been seen anywhere - where have you been?" Thea turned her head to the side. "Ollie, were you out on some nookie-retreat or something?" Thea says, suddenly.

"Thea!"

She shrugs nonchalantly.

He snorts and shakes his head. "I'm uh -" He shrugs - decides to go with a lie. "Working on something independent. It might help us get complete ownership back."

Thea looks hopeful and starts chattering about something related to the club.

Oliver listens to his sister, thinking of Felicity, trying not to smile.

 

***

 

"Cyrus and Sebastian Blood are good friends." Oliver had said, when she appraised him about Emilio Cyrus.

"Then you shouldn't be trusting Blood." Felicity said, plainly. "Oliver - six months ago, when Thea was kidnapped - "

"How'd you know that?" Diggle said.

"Did you really think I wouldn't be keeping an eye on you two? Metaphysical eyes." Felicity said, jabbing the index and middle fingers of her good hand towards her pretty blue eyes, wiggling her eyebrows at him. She gave a lopsided smile. "What? Did you think those software upgrades were brought by the tooth fairy?"

"Huh?" Oliver frowned. "Upgrades?"

"C'mon seriously? Didn't you notice the computer programs automatically getting better? I uploaded patented and very expensive SFI programs on Rocky over there." She pointed to one of her computers. "Free of cost."

Oliver and Diggle exchanged confused looks. Felicity shook her head and muttered something unintelligible with the words 'men of the stone-age' being audible.

(Oliver remembered the harrowing experience of nearly losing Thea all too well. It was those hours of terror, that provided a breakthrough in Oliver's terse relationship with his mother. He had never felt more handicapped in his life, nor did he feel Felicity's loss more profoundly as that night, when Thea had been forcefully taken.

It was more than just the need for Felicity's ingenious technical expertise.)

"Well, those were Cyrus' men." Felicity said, after Diggle reigned her in from her rambling.

"No, they weren't." Oliver said, shaking his head. "We found the guys..."

"The Filipov Brothers ?" Felicity said, quickly. "I thought it was them too."

"Damn! That was you!" Diggle exclaimed, looking at Felicity. "Can't believe I didn't put it together."

"What?" Oliver said.

"Remember Roy got us the tip on the Filipovs? He said he received a text from an untraceable phone." Diggle said.

(Their first real break had come in when Roy and Sara followed the lead from his tipper and found it to be good.

 Of course, it was Felicity, Oliver realized. Who else could remote gather intel  from miles away and still find a way to give it to them anonymously?

Even when she wasn't there, she was there for him.)

"We all know I'm just that good." Felicity gave them a smug smirk.

Oliver smiled at her in agreement.

"But, why did _they_ want Moira out of the campaign, Oliver?" Felicity said, with a quizzical look. "What did you find?"

"Laurel said one of her proposals was planning to integrate charitable foundations into a tax process which would audit all beneficiaries to keep transparencies." Oliver answered. "Some of the charitable half-way houses they ran would have lost the protection clause if she did so."

"Hmm." Felicity said. " _That_ is actually a very believable lie."

"How do you mean? Oliver said.

"And, I thought it was just a mob thing, too - until I found Filipovs had legitimate interests - a software company that makes mobile banking apps. Cyrus paid a huge sum - more than what they worth - to buy limited stock in the company.  The app company is under surveillance by the FBI. Apparently, it was a front used by the Filipovs to run their contract-killers-for-hire service. I followed the money - and I didn't know why Cyrus wanted your mother out of the race. I didn't even know that he was interested in being the Mayor until he announced the candidacy a month after you found Thea." 

Oliver had met Cyrus a few times. The man was originally a major contributor to Moira's campaign. Although, he was suave, knowledgeable, polished and a seemed genuinely interested in Starling's future, Oliver always felt that something seemed very - _off_ about him.

Cyrus had come over to the Queen mansion, that night, offering Moira support. Oliver didn't think his actions to be suspicious at the time, given the friendship that Moira had formed with him. (But - then again, Oliver made many a lousy judgment calls that night -

\- like blindly placed the company in Isabel's hands, for example.)

"Y'know, we initially thought it might have been Blood, behind it." Oliver told her. "Sebastian's a man with nothing to lose. Moira had me and Thea. Thea was the easier target."

"I don't get why Cyrus went about it this way, though." Felicity shrugged. "Why not contest straightaway? He's filthy stinking rich - and I mean, own your own small country - rich. He could fund his own campaign, pump money into the city through a pipe, buy an island after and still have money to spare!"

"I found it peculiar that he offered Blood, the Deputy Mayor's job." Oliver said. "Now - it makes sense.  Cyrus isn't originally from Starling. He only came by a couple of years, ago. No one would vote for him, if he just decided to run, straightaway. Now, he has my mother. She serves as his liaison for the city's elite. He flushed his own money into rehabilitating the Glades - gained support there. Managed to beat Sebastian's popularity and gain his allegiance at the same time. "

"Well, I think being Mayor is part of his plan to use Lynchpin." Felicity said. "I don't know why he wants to cause a breakdown, but believe me, Oliver - Cyrus chooses his allies, carefully. If Sebastian's all pals with him - he is most certainly dangerous."

Oliver and John took in whatever she told them. He was silently ruminating over it when Felicity spoke after a while.

"I have to go into 'quiet mode." She declared. "Y'know...to scheme within."

Oliver almost laughed. Felicity's 'Quiet mode' was a good solid hour of _loud_ self-introspection and muttering while she debated with herself and the inanimate computers she worked on, listening to ridiculously loud perky music, tapping away on the keyboard while she quote: 'schemed within'.

It had felt like forever, since he'd seen her go into 'Quiet-mode'. And she looked just as adorable now as she did every time.

He was supposed to head off to work, but he was held back by the desire to just look at her, with only just the bit of worry about her overstraining her arm mixed with his admiration of just having her around again.

He watched her; let her presence radiate through him - because she had been gone (far too long) and even though she seemed torn inside, she seemed happy to be with them.

And. Here - with them - with _him_ \-  was where she belonged.

 

***

 

It is amazing how Isabel Rochev manages to sound even, while looking livid.

 

"My, my..." She greets him at the door to his office. "Aren't we bright and perky this morning."

Apparently, that would be a line now.

"Isabel." He grits his teeth at her.

"Fashionably late." Isabel greets him at door to his office. "It's getting old."

Oliver's in a pretty good mood, so he can keep his irritation at bay.

"Are you even capable of being on time?" She continues, after him.

"Well, you usurped the CEO chair and didn't really leave me with much to do..."

"Usurped." Isabel snorts indignantly. "Expanded you vocabulary, Oliver? Were you screwing some sixth grade English teacher this whole week of a fun disappearances?"

"I'm pretty sure being a voting member on the board of directors," He retorts. "Entitles me to coming to work whenever the fuck I want."

She sneers at him, falling in line with his steps as he heads for the office.

"What do you want?" Oliver sighs, when he realizes she won't leave him alone.

"I've seen you dig yourself out of many a hole, Oliver - but I have to say, I'm impressed by this one. Impressive. Maybe even a little cute. But. Hiding it from me? Not smart."

"What?"

Isabel grabs his elbow to stall him. He turns around to look at her. "I don't know how you managed to get this meeting, Oliver." She hisses. "But - just because your family name and pretty smile can probably compensate for a business degree - but it can never compensate for your complete un-sellability as a viable investment."

"I haven't clue what you're talking about." He says, trying to curb the nasty edge in his tone.

"The most elusive Venture Capitalist and CEO of the fifth largest privately-owned technology company is sitting in your office. And you didn't think to let me in on your little meeting? Did you think I was just born yesterday?"

"Who?" He shakes his head.

"Just what do you propose you can offer him, without involving me."

"Isabel, who are - ?"

"Oliver!" His mother's voice pipes up, interrupting them. "Darling!" Moira looks pleased, as she hurries towards them. She exchanges a not unusual icy look with Isabel, and turns towards him, completely cold-shouldering the other woman.

"I have to say," Moira says. "I'm so thrilled - however did you manage to pull this one out of the bag!"

"Pull what, Mother?"

"They say..." Moira links her arms with his, edging him to walk further, sidelining Isabel. "He's extremely reclusive. So - you must have made quite an impression, where'd you meet him? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Meet whom?" He looks between Moira and Isabel, realizing there's someone in his office. He walks past them only to be accosted by Alana, his new secretary."Oliver!" She exclaims (and suddenly, he's surrounded by women with varying degrees of confusion on their faces!).

"I er...they don't have an appointment." She says, then looks fearfully at Isabel. "But Ms. Rochev told me to cancel your entire morning and accommodate him and I...wasn't sure what to do, and your phone was out of reach and..."

"Okay." Oliver says, loudly, silencing everyone. "What is going on? Who are we talking about?"

"Erm...a Violetta Gardner..." Alana says, hesitantly, looking at something she'd written in her diary. "Is in your office." Alana says, hesitantly. "And um..."

"Who's Violetta Gardner?" He says, hastily before Alana can complete.

"The attorney." Isabel says. When Oliver shows his clear ignorance, Isabel shakes her head exasperatedly. "Of Gardner and Eales? "

"Why does she want to see me?" Oliver said.

"And um she's with um..." Alana hesitates, looking up at him. "Ezra David."

 

Oliver feels a tempered calm wash over him as his blood runs cold. He grits his teeth and looks at Moira's hopeful face and Isabel's curious expression.

"I'm coming with you." Isabel says as he starts to walk forward.

"It's a private meeting." Oliver grinds out.

"The hell it is...do you even know how we fared last quarter? You can't possibly think to make a..."

"Isabel!" Oliver raises his voice in part-exasperation and part fury. The look in his face is powerful enough to surprise her into silence.

He throws a glance at his mother and then stalks into his office, barking orders at Alana that no one should disturb him.

 

* 

 

_Felicity's eyes._

Blue, vibrant but -

\- without the love, kindness and the hope.

He connects with those eyes, the instant he walked in.

The man is emaciated, pale, almost swallowed by the size of the sofa, looking tired; he looked so drained, it was almost as though someone had forced him to walk up the entire flight of stairs to Oliver's office. But everything about the keen way he looked at him, the shrugging of his eyebrows, the way he tilted his head - screamed Felicity. 

The woman, whom he presumes to be Violetta Gardner is a complete contrast. A beautiful redhead in her late thirties, with sharp Italian features, perfectly coiffed hair, carefully selected clothes and a composed demeanour -  she regards him with an almost clinical expression.

Gardner introduces herself first. "In addition to being Chief of Legal Services" She adds. "I'm also executor of our CTO's private estate." She says.

Oliver ignores her, he keeps his eyes fixed on Ezra David, trying his level best to keep his buzzing emotions at bay.

She is evidently thrown off by his silence, and continues to speak. "I understand our visit is a bit sudden, Mr. Queen but I'm afraid the matter is as delicate as it is urgent."

Oliver breaks his gaze away from Ezra David and looks at Gardner.

"I believe you know Miss Felicity Smoak." Gardner says hesitantly.

"She's my friend." Oliver says, giving Ezra David a pointed look. David narrows his eyes, reminding him of Felicity, yet again.

"She's also Mr. David's daughter." Gardner says, emphatically.

Oliver says nothing.

"Ms. Smoak." Gardner says, looking at him curiously, probably disappointed that he doesn't have a reaction. "Had a will drawn up about a few months ago."

"Go on." Oliver says.

Now, she looks nonplussed. "Don't you want to know if something happened to her?" She asks.

It occurs to him that Felicity has been missing from _their_ lives for over a week now. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Gardner - " He starts to say.

"Please call me, Violetta," She intervenes.

"I'm sorry, Violetta." He resumes. "But, Felicity and I haven't been in touch for over a year and a half - it's just - this comes as a bit of shock." He glances towards Ezra David. "I'm sure," He shifts his eyes to Violetta Gardner, "you can understand that."

"Interesting." Violetta says, looking suspicious. "You don't seem all that shocked."

"I assure you." He says, knowing how unconvincing he sounds. "I'm shocked."

She exchanges a look with Ezra David and then nods. "Ms. Smoak had a very peculiar condition in her will."

"Which was?"

"Well - if she ever went missing for a period more than forty-eight hours without explanation - I was to liquidate a percentage of her financial holdings and turn over the tax-deducted amount to the beneficiary in addition to a few of her financial assets."

"Okay, and - ?" Oliver says, unsure of what any of it has to do with him.

"You are the beneficiary, Mr. Queen." Violetta says, slowly.

Oliver is taken aback.

"She's been missing for a week, Mr. Queen." Violetta says, unsteadily.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't really know what to say. Felicity must have surely anticipated something would happen to her. Oliver feels eight different variants of confusion and apprehension at once.

"Mr. Queen," Violetta says. "We're complying with her request to liquidate her financial holdings." Violetta steps forward to hand him a cheque.

Oliver takes the cheque silently, completely overwhelmed when he sees the amount. It is enough to buy his half of the company again.

"In addition to which." Violetta hands him some papers. "Ms. Smoak bought eleven percent of Stellmoor's stake in QC at some point last year. These are also to be bequeathed to you. I'd say your investment issues with QC might find be abated."

And just like that - QC was his again. He looks at Ezra who's observing him, closely.

"Should she be found dead..." Violetta adds, to which Oliver jerks his head towards Gardner so quickly that she goes silent. She looks a little frightened. He can't control the revulsion he feels at the idea of something happening to Felicity. In the glass pane, behind Violetta Gardner, Oliver can see his reflection and the unrepressed vehemence in his expression.

"Should she be found dead?" He says, his voice menacing.

"Should she be found dead." Violetta says, hesitantly. "She bequeathed a large percentage of her entire stake in SF Inc. to you...Mr. Queen...I... These terms have been notarized. No one can contest it...not even..."

"Mrs. Gardner?" Ezra David stops her. The voice is strained, and thick with exhaustion. "May I have a few minutes with Mr. Queen, in private."

From the corner of his eye, Oliver can see the uncertain look Gardner shoots David. David nods at her.

Oliver thinks of Felicity's bruised body. He thinks of the strange scars she'd acquired. He thinks of the desperate expression on her face when she told him that how much she missed him and Diggle. He thinks of her heart-wrenching screams of pain.     

"Did you know that Felicity was ranked second in the National Information Technology Convention?" David says, drawing Oliver's notice to the fact that they are now alone. "Do you know why she ended up second? She reached late - missed the first round."

Oliver walks around to his desk, sets his briefcase down.

David continued to speak with condescension dripping from his tone. "Have you seen how fast she decodes a sigma level encryption algorithm?" David coughs. "Do you even know what a sigma encryption algorithm is? Can you even spell the word: _algorithm_..." David's tone of voice turns mocking... "Mr. Queen?"

He glares at Ezra David in response.

"She finished her Masters six months before the rest of her class. A girl _that_ smart, so swept up with a man with whose IQ is probably a two-digit number?" David spits out the words. His facial expression changes to a wry, wicked sneer and he sounds dramatic when he speaks. "But what can I say?" He says. "She's like me, that way." He gives Oliver a cold look. "Can I blame her? Falling for dumb blonds and their pretty smiles?"

It's the resemblance to Felicity's face, with such a stark contrast to her personality that has Oliver perturbed by Ezra's insults - but only slightly.   

"It is always a father's proudest moment," Ezra drawls, giving Oliver a cruel look, "when his highly qualified, highly intelligent daughter ends up as a _secretary_ to a college dropout with a silver spoon in his mouth. Don't you find that interesting?"

"A father who walked out on his daughter when she was little, didn't come back into her life until twenty years and passing judgment on her choice of friends?" Oliver says, coldly. "I find that interesting."

Ezra's bitter expression goes blank.

Oliver gives him a sarcastic smirk.

"I don't want your money, Mr. David." Oliver says, after Ezra seems to fumble to respond. "You can file the papers to contest. I won't fight you."

"I don't care that Felicity wants to give you her money, _Oliver_. What I don't get, is what she sees in you to afford you so much fidelity."

(Had Oliver been in a more friendly mood he'd have acknowledged Ezra's words and said what he always thought all along.

That, he didn't know. He didn't know what she saw in him - but he was glad for it.

But he's not in such a giving mood. Instead - ) He sinks into his chair and braces the arms. "Maybe, she thinks I'm funny." Oliver quips.

Ezra David snorts.

"Or maybe..." Oliver says, calmly. "Maybe Felicity's the sort of person who has principles and likes people who share them."

"Principles, Oliver?" Ezra David says. "Like what? Playboy billionaire who lost his father's billions by day, Robin Hood by night? Do you think jumping roof to roof and satisfying your saviour complex every now and then makes you a man of principles?"

Oliver blinks.

"Until Violetta informed me about the will, I had assumed the worst." He says, all the hatred suddenly disappearing from his face. He looks worn and tired. "I've spent a week going insane with worry, until it hit me." He looks Oliver straight in the eyes. "It's you - it's always been about you - for her."

Ezra David knows he's the Arrow. The realization dawns him cold and fast.

"What did you say?" Oliver says, grinding his teeth.

David sighs. "Anyone with half a brain, some spare time, and access to the internet can put it together. You might have thought that ridiculous outfit was a decent cover, Mr. Queen, but I assure you it might have fooled the incompetent do-do-nutters of Starling City's finest but it wasn't that difficult for me to fit the pieces."

Oliver is stunned into silence.

It takes him a second to process it but suddenly everything hits him - like - like a massive speeding train that's coming at him and all he can do is stare into the headlights.

Felicity did all of this to protect him.

"Now," Ezra David says, sounding particularly tired. "Where is my daughter?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whatcha think?


End file.
